<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Blinding Green, Wayward Soul by eternallytheirs</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488494">Blinding Green, Wayward Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternallytheirs/pseuds/eternallytheirs'>eternallytheirs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Imperial China, Angst, Emperor! Chrollo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Tags will be added as the chapters progress, questfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternallytheirs/pseuds/eternallytheirs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In 18th century Beijing, Kurapika lives his days out as a poor silk merchant. But when the Emperor of Beijing offers his hand in marriage, mistaking Kurapika as a woman, he sees it as a way out of his poverty. </p><p>However, after spending more time with the Emperor, Kurapika starts to uncover a darker secret of his past, in correlation to the disappearance of his younger brother Pairo. What had started out as harmless flirting with the richest man in Beijing turns into a fullblown adventure that Kurapika swore to give up on long ago. </p><p>Annoyingly enough, a rakishly handsome outlaw won't leave Kurapika alone, and he's maybe, certainly, definitely not falling for him in the process.</p><p>(Loosely based off of the 2000's film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kurapika/Chrollo (one-sided), Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For this fic, I tried my best to research different aspects of Chinese culture seeing as I wasn’t actually living in the time period. I hope I did a good job of representing it, and if I was insensitive or inaccurate about anything, please feel free to let me know. (Writing tumblr is eternally-theirs, or my side blog, keiharui)</p><p>Finally, a super big thank-you to my amazing beta Sleeves!! (@stripedsleeves on ao3) Your commentary really motivated me to keep writing.</p><p>That’s all I’m going to say for now! Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Up atop Wudang Mountain, the Kurtas lived peacefully for many centuries. Their civilisation grew and grew, hidden away atop a sheltered cliffside with walls made of tall, thin tree trunks. Their young were taught to sew, cook and take care of the children. Gender was a fluid, open belief- that whether you identified as a girl, or boy, or something in between the two, you could take on whatever roles you wanted. In the clan, you were addressed by your name assigned at birth by your parents.</p><p>To the clan, names were of utmost importance; they held your title, birthline and even said a bit of your character. Using Kurtan characters, the parents would construct an original name for their young that encompassed their heritage and upheld the traditions of their tribe.</p><p>Hence, Kurapika- A small baby, rosy-cheeked and quiet, being born despite the elders of the village predicting a miscarriage. “Young warrior” was what they deemed him, “baby of miracles”. The child had been born under a red moon, his mother swathing him in a bundle of cloth and lifting him up to the light, tears streaming down her face when he grabbed her finger in a small fist.</p><p>As he grew up, Kurapika’s features from both of his parents grew onto him as well. His light hair, the color of the wheat they grew in the meadows, was a rare sight amongst the Chinese clan; Kurapika’s stunning looks soon became the envy of the clanschildren as they marvelled at his large grey eyes, freckles and beauty marks adorning his face, his blonde locks.</p><p>On his tenth birthday, the day that marked a century-long ritual that one outside of the clan may have referred to as a “birthday”, Kurapika went to the elder’s temple and prayed for a day and a night, bowing his head down and thanking their clan’s deity for allowing him to survive. At the final hour, when the sun was cresting up over the mountaintop, the most respected elder Ogawa placed a wreath of red flowers in his hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders.</p><p>“Red as the color you were born under,” Ogawa declared with a small smile, her eyes closing and her cheeks dimpling. Kurapika brought his hands up to join them with hers and thanked her once more with a final bow before making his way back down to join his family for a meal after his fast.</p><p>From that day on, Kurapika was referred to as a man, but was sometimes mistaken for a woman by his clanspeople. Seeing as he was brought up under open circumstances, Kurapika never corrected them, accepting the compliment with a small smile and the downwards tilt of his head. After all, women and men were equals, in his clan. So, the people who mistook him as a woman found him to be as beautiful as one.</p><p>In the morning, at the call of the chickens that clustered and paraded through the secluded mountain town, Kurapika filled his leather satchel with parchment and feathers. He waved to his parents, kissed his little brother on the top of his head and made his way down to the only school that was accessible by ten hours in each direction. The climb back down the mountain to civilization was a long and foreign one to Kurapika, as he had everything he needed right in his clan.</p><p>He was an avid reader and spent many of his days poring over the scrolls in the small library room that their little institution housed. After spending two years visiting the building every other day, Kurapika was able to recite full stories by heart and retold them to his brother Pairo and other kids who were not yet old enough to visit the schoolhouse on their own. The reason Pairo always accompanied his story times, despite being only two years younger than him and more than eligible to learn on his own, was that he was blind.</p><p>As a result of his impairment, Pairo’s other senses were amplified to a supernatural extent- he was able to tell when Kurapika was coming back home from school as he sat on his woven mat inside their small house. Pairo could detect what they were having for supper long before it was served in front of him, whether his parents were in a good mood or a foul one, as well as having a particular sixth sense of his own.</p><p>Somehow, Pairo was able to make predictions, painfully accurate down to the minutest detail. They started as soon as he was able to open his mouth, babbling Kurtish words that, when put together, held a great meaning to whomever he was directing the phrases at.</p><p>Kurapika’s little brother started to become a bit of a village treasure; his predictions of good harvests or lousy ones were always true. He began to rack up such a reputation that, at the age of seven, he spent most of his free time at the infirmary hut in their village, sitting in front of pregnant woman peacefully while telling them reassuring details of how their births would go, when they would go into labor, even down to the looks of their babies.</p><p>Between having a child with godlike looks and a child with godlike powers, Kurapika’s family was well known throughout the clan and were often sought out during the day, asking Kurapika for his advice on the arrangement of the crops or Pairo to give insight on the floodings that had been happening down by the river recently.</p><p>Needless to say, Pairo was an important part of the clan. No one looked down on him because of his handicap, and no one belittled him. At least, not to his face.</p><p>The one time Kurapika had ever heard envious children gossiping about his little brother had been the last time the subject was ever brought up again. He was fiercely protective of Pairo, and stepped in as his foster parent, taking care of Pairo while his parents were out working in the fields until late at night. So when he rounded the corner coming home from the schoolhouse to low mutterings and Pairo’s name spat in a harsh tone, he kept his ear open and hid behind a wall in waiting.</p><p>“...And the whole family, really. They surely think themselves better than the rest of us, with the magical Pairo kid. They think he’s some sort of god when he’s really just a weak <em>outsider</em>.”</p><p>Not having the greatest control on his temper, a fierce burning in his chest that he’d never been able to reel in, Kurapika had tumbled out of his hiding spot and leapt onto the kid, a classmate that he’d never paid particular attention to. His fist made contact with the offender twice before he had been pulled off by a teacher, yelling to get a healer as Kurapika was panting, regaining his calm and feeling disgusted as he looked down at the blood on his hands.</p><p>When he returned home, he’d received a harsh scolding from his parents as he sat in silence, not touching his small bowl of rice and offering it back to his parents in forgiveness. Later, with an empty stomach, he popped his head into Pairo’s cramped bedchamber and made his presence clear, knocking on the rickety bamboo door. Not that he really needed to, seeing as Pairo had been most likely able to hear his soft footsteps down the hall. It was more of a show of respect.</p><p>“You heard what happened?” Kurapika asked his brother, shifting anxiously in front of the cross-legged child. Pairo nodded solemnly, frowning the slightest bit.</p><p>“Kurapika, you needn’t have attacked the kid for me,” Pairo said softly. “He meant no real harm.”</p><p>Kurapika shook his head angrily. “They were belittling you! I couldn’t just stand by and let it happen,” he protested in disgust.</p><p>Pairo reached his hand out and searched for Kurapika’s own, patting the back of his hand reassuringly.</p><p>“No matter. We just need to keep an eye on that temper of yours,” Pairo said, chuckling at his own joke. Kurapika smiled despite himself and mussed up Pairo’s hair.</p><p>“You can try.”</p><p> </p><p>Around Kurapika’s fifteenth birthday, a man in a large straw hat with an overflowing backpack climbed up the five thousand stairs leading to their village. By the time he made it to the top, the man collapsed on his knees as villagers crowded around him, not having seen a newcomer in over thirty years.</p><p>As it turned out, the man had been interested in the exterior world for all of his childhood and left to explore as soon as he had turned eighteen, when his family was able to provide on their own without their eldest son. Three decades of travels later, he returned to share his findings with his clan members.</p><p>The objects that the traveller had brought back were split and scattered around the village; new materials, foreign ones from different places of the world, were shared amongst the seamstress and seamstresses. The new types of spices were given to the cooks, and the gardners tried to find plants that were close to the flavoring of the spices to grow for themselves in the community gardens. However, Kurapika’s favorite addition to the new advancements in their village was the small collection of leather-bound books, wrapped in string and displayed in the schoolhouse’s library.</p><p>Never before had Kurapika been able to hold a book in his hands and flip the pages. He would amuse himself for hours, marvelling over the stories that had been written in Chinese print that he learnt primarily for convenience in the future. Not long after finishing the last book in the library, Kurapika began to translate some stories onto parchment and scroll, changing the symbols into hand-printed Kurtish ones for those in the clan who weren’t able to read Chinese lettering. </p><p>The more he read about the world outside of his village on the cliffside, the more Kurapika was intrigued about what outsiders were like and how the world around their secluded village functioned. As he approached his final years at the schoolhouse, before needing to seek out his true calling in life, Kurapika found himself consulting the voyager who had brought them many wonders of the outside world.</p><p>The first time had been out of curiosity; he’d knocked on the little hut’s door with the intention of inquiring about the books, and where the traveller had bought them. His visits started becoming frequent, learning more and more secrets from the older man who taught him everything from the star patterns when travelling by boat to a wondrous creation called <em>glasses</em>.</p><p>“Would they be able to fix Pairo’s eyesight?” Kurapika had asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. The voyager chuckled at Kurapika’s curiosity and waved his hand in front of him.</p><p>“Oh, no,” he laughed. “They aren’t a thing of miracles. However, there were many skilled healers that I met along the way back home that might be able to look your little brother over and help him figure out what his condition may be. They’d likely tell you it's a birth defect, but you could always try.” Kurapika had nodded his head enthusiastically, beginning to grow restless inside of his own village.</p><p>He stopped visiting the schoolhouse so often and instead found himself in the voyager’s small hut, sitting still and imaging the world as the man told him marvelous tales. The village that he had always loved started to become confining and stuffy; the things that used to bring him joy kept him wondering, <em>“</em><em>but how would they compare to the activities of the outside world?”</em></p><p>Seeing as he was always sharing tales at supper time, it came as no surprise to Kurapika’s parents when he stated that in four moon’s time, he would start his venture down the steep incline of the hill. They gave him their blessing with heavy hearts and retired to their room early, worrying about their son’s wellbeing.</p><p>“It must be that explorer who’s tainting his mind,” they would mutter bitterly. “He’s changed Kurapika.” Kurapika just brushed their negativity off, wishing that his last memories of living with his parents would have been sweeter. However, Kurapika was a stubborn man, and he refused to call off his voyage. The only thing standing in his way was Pairo.</p><p>For the entirety of a day, his little brother would not talk to him. Kurapika tried to probe him, bringing Pairo his favorite foods or telling him little stories, but he simply would not talk. Whenever he sensed Kurapika’s back turning, Pairo would begin to mutter to himself and poke holes in a piece of parchment with a thin iron needle.</p><p>This strange ritual was a way that Pairo took down notes for his readings, leaving particular patterns of holes in the piece of parchment that he could later rub his hands over and recall the telling he had been predicting when he poked the design. Kurapika was enthralled with this little hobby, but the amount of readings that Pairo had been doing the day before Kurapika was set to leave was worrying.</p><p>The night before he was due to leave, Kurapika poked his head into Pairo’s chamber to see the floor absolutely covered in parchment, surrounding his mat that he sat on backed up against the farthest wall in the room. The designs, which were normally clockwise spirals, were all faced counter-clockwise and ended where another one started, as if all of his tellings were intertwined by fate, sauf for one paper in the middle of the room, an infinity symbol looping around the parchment. Pairo sat in front of it all, holding the needle in lightly shaking hands.</p><p>Kurapika eyebrows raised to brush the ends of his bangs. “What in the world is all of this?” he asked as Pairo sat on the backs of his heels.</p><p>“My dreams have been tormented by tellings, lately,” Pairo said, the first words Kurapika had heard from in a couple of days. “All I hear are murmurs and cries; every scent I smell has a meaning. Every nerve in my body has been telling me to write until my hands ache.”</p><p>Pairo evidently had more that he wanted to tell Kurapika, but restrained himself from doing so. Kurapika took his leave silently, not wanting to disturb whatever odd trance his brother was in. He set out his favorite set of robes on the back of his old chair and patted his packed satchel as he stared at the ceiling, laying on his back and waiting for sleep to take him. His mind, like Pairo’s, was overflowing with thoughts and he found that he was unable to sleep for too long due to his excitement.</p><p>When morning light peeped over the treetops, Kurapika pulled on his flats and tied the collar of his traditional Kurtan garb tightly under his neck, anticipating the heavy wind that he would be barraged with as soon as he started down the mountain. He was sent off by his parents who hugged him tightly before letting go. His former classmates bid him farewell, asking for him to bring them back sweets and other trinkets. Kurapika smiled and agreed, pocketing the small sack of gold that the voyager had given him to use once he got down the mountain.</p><p>The adventurer himself was a bit of a hermit, spending his days alone in his hut, but the first and last time he ever came outside to speak to other villagers was on the day when Kurapika left, leaning against a tree and giving Kurapika a small wave, not big on tearful goodbyes. Kurapika returned the wave, smiling softly at the man he’d grown to call a mentor.</p><p>The last and hardest valediction was when Pairo flung his arms around Kurapika’s back. Kurapika brought his brother to his chest and held him tightly, patting his head and flattening down the chestnut strands.</p><p>“Farewell, Pairo. I’ll miss you,” Kurapika said solemnly, before leaning down to whisper into his ear. “But worry not, for I shall come back as soon as I find a healer good enough to help you with your ailment.”</p><p>If the news shocked Pairo, he did not show it. Instead, he placed his hand delicately on the side of Kurapika’s face, bringing him down to face him.</p><p>“Though that is not necessary, I shan’t try to stop you,” Pairo remarked. “However, before you go, there is something I absolutely must tell you. Do your best to pay attention to what I am about to say, for the chanting in my head is telling me that it is crucial that you remember.” Kurapika leaned in closer, making sure to hear what his brother was about to tell him.</p><p>“By the time you make it back up this mountain, at the end of your journey, you must seek out the master of the jade sword. You <em>must</em>,” Pairo cringed, the voices that only he was able to hear forcing him to emphasize the two words. Kurapika was befuddled by Pairo’s declaration, before realizing that his brother was giving him a telling. He’d never received one before, preferring to live his life without knowing what was yet to come. That was the fun in living, after all.</p><p>“And who would that be?” Kurapika asked. Pairo only shook his head in a similar state of confusion.</p><p>“I haven’t a clue. The only directions I’ve gotten today was to tell you that exact phrase.”</p><p>Kurapika shrugged himself, hoisting his bag higher up onto his shoulder as they broke apart from their hold. He began to walk away slowly from his group of family and friends, waving all the while. As soon as he started to climb down the steps, one at a time, his head becoming obscured by the fog rolling over the cliffside, he heard Pairo yell into the abyss.</p><p>“Don’t forget!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Small cw for mild violence/blood, but it’s not super graphic.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: I don’t ship chrollopika and this isn’t one of those kinds of fics. Dare I say I use it for plot purposes lmao. You’ll see that the relationship is pretty clearly one-sided. Also, the next chapter will be up around March 5th. Any and all comments/likes/bookmarks are super appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Beijing, Imperial China, 1699.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A heavy cloud of steaming jasmine tea warmed Kurapika’s face as he sat, spine tight as a rod, on a cushion made of silk in a bustling teahouse off the side of the street market. Servers in long dresses that brushed the floor scrambled about, placing cups in front of the many customers filling the small joint. Kurapika sipped his tea calmly as the people rushed around him, allowing his maid sitting in front of him to converse with him. Loudly.</p><p>“I’ll say it once, and I’ll say it again, Miss Kurapika! You simply have to accept Emperor Chrollo’s marriage proposal!” Cheadle, a short woman with bug-eyed spectacles and hair in a tight bun scolded. “Out of all of the women in this city, the Emperor chose you. That in itself is praise enough.”</p><p>Kurapika rolled his eyes without tilting his head, making sure not to shake the jeweled headpiece that was sitting above his bangs. “Miss Cheadle, you know quite well that Chrollo doesn’t want to have me, he wants to <em>own</em> me,” Kurapika seethed. “To him, I’m nothing but a pretty face.”</p><p>Cheadle “tsked” and sat back on her heels, picking up her cup of black tea and settling it on her lap. “You shouldn’t call him by his first name,” Cheadle reprimanded finally. “It’s unbecoming!”</p><p>“Well, I suppose it shall be fitting after I accept his proposition,” Kurapika drawled, picking at the cloth mat underneath him. Cheadle’s eyes widened, going bleary under the glass and wire. “So you’ve come to a decision?”</p><p>Kurapika reached the dregs of his tea at the bottom of his porcelain cup with a grimace from the bitter taste. “As if there was a choice to be had in the first place. I suppose I'll go along with the marriage and be his personal chinadoll.” Cheadle reached over to brush a stray piece of shockingly pale hair out of Kurapika’s eyes, letting her hands caress the side of his face.</p><p>“And what a beautiful doll you’ll be,” she muttered finally. “Don’t forget about your maid friends when you’re living in the Emperor's palace.” Kurapika chuckled lightly at that.</p><p>“As if I could ever. I’m sure you’d send a flurry of messenger pigeons to my windowsill each morning, each carrying a note asking about how living an extravagant life is.” Cheadle held a hand to her heart, giving a small gasp of mock outrage.</p><p>“I would never,” she declared. Just then, a teahouse worker strode over to their place on the floor and cleared their dishes. Kurapika pulled out his satin pouch of gold coins to pay for the both of them, but Cheadle held her hand out and forked over a couple of pieces of her own, not letting Kurapika pay.</p><p>“Consider it a wedding gift,” she said with a wink at Kurapika. He sent her a grin and ignored the guilt eating away at the inside of his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>… </p><p> </p><p>Chrollo’s proposal had been a long time coming. He’d laid eyes on Kurapika when he’d made the rare trip down to the vendor’s alley, where Kurapika had been running a small silk and linens booth, selling scarves and shawls and long rolls of fabric. He was skilled at spinning the thread as well as doing small stitchwork, manning a successful garment repair stall that brought in more than enough gold to keep himself afloat.</p><p>On that particular sweltering day in the thick of summer, the owners of the stalls all around Kurapika’s were abuzz with chatter and the tidbit of gossip that the Emperor himself had been floating from market to market, seemingly in search of something. <em>What</em> that particular item was had not been disclosed.</p><p>Kurapika went about his work day as though it was any other; he’d been raised as a hard worker and found no difficulty in slaving under the hot sun, sewing and selling to pass the hours and make his pockets a little heavier. Perhaps it was for that reason that Chrollo had found his natural charm so appealing.</p><p>When the Emperor finally made it down Kurapika’s small, cramped alleyway, around five feet in width for reference, Kurapika found he no longer had the patience in him to suck up to the Emperor like the other merchants had been doing. Instead, he stayed seated behind his stall, blonde hair tied up in a loose bun at the nape of his neck by a sewing needle while finishing a silkweave with steady hands, not even bothering to look up when a shadow passed over his stall.</p><p>He was only pulled away from his work with a sharp rapping of knuckles on his display table, making his eyes flit up to the source of movement without physically tilting his head up. The Emperor stood before him in all his lavish glory, despite being surrounded by a small posse of servants in jet-black garments and cinched waist wraps.</p><p>“Hello? Is your fabric shop still open for the afternoon?” Chrollo asked with an air of superiority, as if to say, <em>it better be, for the Emperor no less.</em></p><p>Kurapika blew a piece of his bangs back into place and continued to stitch, blatantly ignoring the man in front of him. “I’m assuming you can read the sign?” He nodded at the small piece of cardboard taped to his table that read “open”.</p><p>Chrollo’s eyes widened and he chuckled, taken aback by Kurapika’s offstandish attitude. The guard to his left reached for his <em>jian</em> resting on his belt loop, but Chrollo held his hand out with a shake of the head, assuring his sentry that violence would not need to be taken.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you a rather feisty one? Certainly distinguishable from all the other kiss-asses I met earlier today,” Chrollo commented with a widening smirk.</p><p>Kurapika’s eyebrows raised skeptically. “Are you truly the Emperor?” he retorted, “For your dialect sounds like that of a stable-hand. If you’re trying to rile me up, it isn’t working.”</p><p>Chrollo held his gaze for a beat before dropping it down and grinning, toying with a scarf setup on the table. He ran the material between his hands before taking his leave, nodding quickly at Kurapika with a roguish look adorning his intimidating face.</p><p>“I shall leave you to your business, tonight. But anticipate my arrival tomorrow, for I am rather intrigued by your whip-sharp tongue,” the Emperor declared, walking away.</p><p>“However, pay heed: It isn’t often I let people talk to me in such a degrading way. Take care, dearheart.” Chrollo’s troupe paused to glare at Kurapika before scrambling after him, walking further down the market in a parade of black silk.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>True to his word, the Emperor returned the next day, early in the morning when the dust on the cobblestone streets had not yet settled and many a straggler milled around, either in a drunken state or looking to pinch an unsuspecting vendor’s merchandise. Kurapika had woken up when the sky was a bruising purple, unable to sleep longer than five hours on the uncomfortable bench outside of the small shack where he stored his fabrics.</p><p>His only possessions, if you could even call them that, were inside his small shed on the market street; there was one shelf in the constricted room where he displayed small trinkets and jewels worth enough money to buy himself meals for a month if he ever needed, as well as a porcelain bowl that he’d had ever since he was a kid. Other than that, his little space was filled with material and items to sell, not to own for himself.</p><p>After having some rest and time to himself, Kurapika decided that he would be better off not taking the Emperor’s warning lightly and danced around conversation with him when he arrived. He wore his best robe, folded his hands in his lap and stayed silent until talked to.</p><p>Chrollo noticed his cold behavior bemusedly. This time, the Emperor was all alone, not a guard in sight. “What’s the matter with you today?” he scowled, wrapping his sash tighter around himself. The movement shifted his sleeve upwards and revealed an ink-black tattoo of a dragon spiralling up his arm. Kurapika observed it idly, further proof of the legitimacy of the man standing in front of him. Only members of the monarch lineage were able to bear the symbol of the dragon.</p><p>Still, he said nothing. “And here I’d thought that I’d finally found a woman who had both looks and personality. Alas…” Chrollo raised his eyes up to the ceiling of the stall, fanning himself lightly with his hand in irritation. The corners of Kurapika’s mouth tipped upwards despite himself, starting to see an opening for himself.</p><p>“With all due respect, your Imperial Majesty, are you really sure you ought to be traipsing around Beijing with a young street vendor? Someone might get the wrong impression.” Kurapika raised his head, looking at Chrollo with wide-set eyes and long eyelashes, hoping his looks would soften the blow that his words carried. He twirled a strand of his hair around his index finger, keeping eye contact with the Emperor’s dark orbs. His expression was next to unreadable until his mouth split open into a wide grin, showing pointed canines.</p><p>Kurapika was not easily rattled, but there was a certain aura that followed the Emperor, hidden beneath his easily-seduced exterior. He was no fool, but Kurapika had led on many a scholar just to get them to do as he pleased. Preferably, Chrollo would be no different.</p><p>“That’s more like it. Your biting tongue excites me, miss.” Chrollo leaned forward, his arms crossed over his torso. Kurapika mirrored his actions. “I am the Emperor. I have every right to <em>traipse</em> anywhere with whoever I would like. Now, if we’re going to be more familiar with each other in the future, which I assure you we <em>will</em>, might you give me your name?”</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Kurapika drummed his fingers on the table in an act of mock consideration. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind disclosing my name, if it means we might have further relations,” Kurapika smiled up at the Emperor. “My name is Kurapika.”</p><p>“Kurapika?” Chrollo parroted, face twisting confusedly. “That sounds foreign, but you speak mandarin perfectly.” The statement was something Kurapika had heard far too many times in his life. So much so, in fact, that his response was robotic and practiced.</p><p>“My mother had a bit of Japanese blood in her, and found a happy medium in naming me with different <em>kanji</em>,” he drawled, lying through his teeth. Kurapika was happy that his clan had developed such a unique naming system due to the fact that no one ever questioned his name, which was intersex.</p><p>Chrollo nodded his head, not really following. “And your family name?” Kurapika scrutinized his worn nail beds with half-heartened engrossment.</p><p>“My mother and I never brought up my father and his ancestors. He was unfaithful and broke my poor old woman’s heart…” Kurapika closed his eyes and looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “Despite having a child, she died of loneliness when I was much younger. Hence, my living on the streets.” He pulled out his fake sob story, one that he applied in order to win over a more wealthy individual. And how well it worked, when he saw the Emperor’s face soften a fraction of an inch.</p><p>“I am sorry to hear that,” Chrollo said stoically. <em>Clearly he isn’t used to comforting people,</em> Kurapika remarked. <em>He has about as much compassion in his body as a toad. </em>Regardless, the show continued.</p><p>“Thank you for your sincerity, your Imperial majesty.” Kurapika smiled softly, the type of full-lipped grin that shot arrows into even the most guarded samurai’s heart. At any rate, the Emperor would surely be wrapped around his finger by the end of the day.</p><p>Chrollo shifted in his robes, tugging at the neckline the slightest bit. “Think nothing of it. However, Miss Kurapika,” he said suddenly, his eyes lighting up with the flirty nature that he bore naturally. Kurapika allowed himself to be swayed by Chrollo’s ministrations, letting the Emperor trace a finger down his smooth jaw where he couldn’t seem to grow a stubble with his fair and sparse hair even if he wanted to. He was grateful for it, nonetheless, contributing majorly to his illusion of femininity.</p><p>“It would be safe to say that I could not forget your face even if I grew blind. Would you mind accompanying me for a stroll in my palace gardens, today? The hibiscus have been blooming wonderfully this season, and I’d like for you to tour my home, even if it's just for a bit.” If Chrollo’s confession struck a chord in Kurapika’s mind, triggering memories of someone who used to be dear to him, he did not let them show. Instead, he ran with the ruse, seeing an opportunity to gain an in with the Emperor.</p><p>Kurapika made a show of looking downwards sadly, tipping his blonde head to the side. “I would so enjoy spending the afternoon with you, Emperor,” he said with a sigh, “but alas, my shop needs upkeep if I am to eat supper tonight.” Chrollo waved a hand in front of his face, fingers adorned with rings.</p><p>“That is no problem. I would be happy to give you as much money as you need for a mighty feast. Or, if the ‘noon goes well, perchance you’d earn a chance to dine with me,” he smirked. <em>Perfect</em>, Kurapika gloated interiorly. <em>Hooked, reeled and sunk.</em> He pushed back from his chair and shuffled in front of the stall, pulling a curtain over the table and grabbing his worn sandals for a day of walking.</p><p>“Well, if that's the case, I suppose I wouldn’t mind terribly keeping you company,” Kurapika said slyly as he stood in front of Chrollo. The Emperor bowed slightly and gestured for Kurapika to make his way down the alleyway, an act of chivalry. “Ladies first,” he commented.</p><p>
  <em>If only you knew.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Despite what he may have thought of the Emperor, Kurapika had to admit that he was truly a devoted man to walk all the way from his palace to Kurapika’s booth so early in the morning. The voyage on foot took close to an hour, ducking behind roads and avoiding gawking merchants as they followed the sandy cobblestone roads until they blended into polished limestone.</p><p>The Emperor’s palace in itself was magnificent; constructed almost entirely of dark clay and onyx slabs, black as night and difficult to get to without instructions. Kurapika stopped only once during the voyage to take a break and admire the rushing water below him as they stood up on a long foot bridge, towering high over the water. Kurapika watched with an open mouth (in what must have been childish amusement, for Chrollo laughed at his expense) as brilliantly colored fish swam by, their scales glinting colors of silver and bleeding reds.</p><p>“Have you taken a liking to the wildlife?” Chrollo asked, his eyebrows raised. Kurapika startled and pulled his head away from the fish swimming about in the glass-like water. “They are a marvel,” he admitted wondrously. “I have seen countless goldfish in paper bags at the market, waiting to be eaten or won, but never in my whole life have I seen koi fish.”</p><p>The Emperor turned his back on Kurapika and continued down the bridge, deeming that the ogling was to conclude. “I am only grateful for their presence, for they feed the cranes that live on the property as well.” Kurapika frowned heavily at Chrollo’s receding figure, feeling juvenile feelings of resentment twist in his gut.</p><p>“That’s such a waste,” he commented idly. “The fish should be able to live up to something greater than to be fed to a bird.” He wasn’t quite able to tell, but straining his ears, Kurapika could have sworn that Chrollo scoffed at him. <em>Bastard.</em></p><p>“Beauty is empty. The fish are completely useless, for as pretty as they look, they will never be able to do anything as well as the powerful crane. Their only duty in life is to serve the needs of the birds.” He shot a meaningful look over his shoulder at Kurapika, who could feel the shivers running down his back despite himself. “That’s a lesson that many ought to know.”</p><p>The pathway took a winding turn down the side of the palace as Kurapika bit his cheek to stop himself from biting back a cruel retort. Instead, he focused himself on memorizing the palace’s structure and the slant of the roof tiles, curiously low to the ground in a classic <em>pagoda</em> style.</p><p>The further back into the residence they travelled, the fewer guards Kurapika could see. Once they finally reached the garden gate, a huge door of swirling designs enladen in gold, Chrollo pulled on it with a harsh tug and Kurapika was able to get his first glance at the most breathtaking display he’d ever laid eyes on.</p><p>The garden was completely empty except for a woman kneeling down besides a shrub, tending to the plant with care and a small set of pliers. A row of blooming pink trees lined the fence all the way down the plot, some having wind chimes or beads tied to their branches. Orchids and chrysanthemums and of course, hibiscus flowers dotted the land, bold colors stark against the lush green ferns and high grass that licked at Kurapika’s feet through his open toed sandals.</p><p>There was also a large fountain in the middle of it all, light trickles of water passing down mounted boulders into a small pond where creatures such as frogs milled about, lazing in the sun and hiding amongst the pearlescent shells that lined the bottom of the stream. Had he not been in the presence of judgmental authority, Kurapika would have held his skirt above his ankles and splashed in the water in a heartbeat.</p><p>“Is it not spectacular?” Chrollo asked proudly, as though he himself worked through the scorching sun to maintain his garden. Kurapika only nodded his head in agreement, his fringe bobbing with his motion. Chrollo caught his eye and followed the stone path down to the fountain, where he took a seat to cool off by the spray.</p><p>Kurapika joined him quickly and took a seat as well, for it was rude to stand over someone as important as the Emperor uninvited. Much as he would have liked to clip up his hair and fan his face like a madman, akin to how the Emperor was doing, maybe shed a couple of layers and sprawl out on the lush grass, Kurapika restrained himself.</p><p>“Out of curiosity, what was the reason for bringing me with you all this way? Surely you had more in mind than just to give a poor merchant something to do on a hot day,” Kurapika said airily.</p><p>Chrollo halted his fanning and cracked open an eye to regard Kurapika. He kicked out a foot and leaned back onto the fountain tile before giving Kurapika a response. “And what if that was my only intention?”</p><p>Now it was Kurapika’s turn to scoff. “It most certainly wasn’t. No one in their right minds would put in so much effort just to visit a street merchant miles away, simply because they <em>feel</em> like doing so. It’s unheard of.” The Emperor raised both his arms and shrugged, as though surrendering.</p><p>“Perhaps I did have my reasons for bringing you here. And what of it?” He challenged.</p><p>Kurapika rolled his eyes heavily. “<em>What’s of it</em> is that I’m receiving mixed signals from you, and I’m confused as to why I’m here. Therefore, an explanation would be appreciated.”</p><p>Chrollo stood up abruptly, shaking the dust off of his robes with a scowl before reaching his hand down to pick Kurapika up. Kurapika accepted his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up to his full height, standing at a bit lower than Chrollo’s chin.</p><p>“If you would really like for me to divulge in my ulterior motives, perhaps we should move away from prying ears and take a closer look at the orange blossoms,” The Emperor nodded his head at the gardner, who, to her respect, seemed to be paying them absolutely no mind and continued her task obediently. Nevertheless, Kurapika allowed for himself to be dragged over to the thin trees.</p><p>Chrollo folded his arms behind his back primly. “The whole reason for my searching of the markets was not merely to find a <em>suitor</em>, much as some would like to speculate,” he articulated with a sense of disgust, “however, I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of bringing in a new century with Beijing's biggest marriage in history. But that’s besides the point,” he chuckles as kurapika’s eyes widened. </p><p>“No, the real reason I was at the markets was because I was searching for a specific item that caught my interest long ago, when I was young and naive. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it, being a lowly merchant and all. It’s a type of sword, of jade material, said to behold immense powers. I’ve been wanting it for close to a decade, but alas, my search has not yet bore fruit.”</p><p>Kurapika positively shouted at himself to keep a calm and impassive exterior, forcing the words out of his mouth in order to keep a low profile. Inside, he was absolutely tingling with intrigue. <em>It would seem that I hit a jackpot in following the Emperor’s dumb invitation to his palace,</em> he thought to himself.</p><p>“No, I’ve never heard of the sword of which you speak,” Kurapika said with pursed lips. “However, that’s quite interesting. Throughout your years of quest, have you uncovered any secrets on the sword’s whereabouts? Any sort of hints?” He made a point to try not to cross the line of polite intrigue and downright jumpiness, to hide his hands in his silk, for they were shaking.</p><p>Despite Kurapika’s attempts, Chrollo regarded him with the slightest bit of suspicion clouding over his eyes as they narrowed. He shook his head the slightest bit, making Kurapika’s heart sink low. “I’ve only one lead, of which I shall not be sharing,” he cautioned. “But I can tell you that I’ve uncovered the name of the craftsman who currently wields the weapon. That is all I know; a name, not the identity that bears it.” Kurapika nodded solemnly.</p><p>“That is uplifting information. I wish you well on your search,” Kurapika said lightly, closing his eyes and smiling as though withdrawing his previous interest. His convincing actions assured Chrollo, whose guard seemed to lower the slightest bit as his shoulders unclenched.</p><p>“Yes, I do hope I have eventual success. Now, on the subject of marriage,” Chrollo gave Kurapika a little side-eye, making the man squirm the slightest bit. The intensity in which Chrollo carried was unlike any he’d ever been faced with, even amongst the street fighters that held up his stall or the rats who stole from him at night. “Is a pretty thing like you taken? Because if so, I find it incredibly <em>misleading</em> for you to be here with me right now.”</p><p>Kurapika gulped, despite being completely single for the majority of his life. For some reason, he found himself blanking at the question despite knowing the obvious answer. “No, I’m quite single,” he frowned, “unless someone would like to change that.” Chrollo chuckled darkly, covering his mouth with his hand. Kurapika was <em>one</em> quickly extended arm away from punching the man in the face.</p><p>“Ah, that is good to know,” Chrollo attempted to smother his giggles. “Imagine, me and a street merchant? How ludicrous that would be. How absolutely indecent,” his laughter turned into a smirk, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully.</p><p>“How positively entertaining.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>During the months that followed, the Emperor's visits to Kurapika’s modest shop increased, as the man would hang around like a fly to a rotted orange. His presence sure reminded Kurapika of one. Maybe a coyote would be more fitting, loud and whiny and <em>demanding</em>, taking up all of his time while reminding Kurapika of his status of importance, ever so often.</p><p>One particular day, Chrollo mentioned an update on the status of the sword that he’d been looking for, which interested Kurapika for sentimental reasons, something that reminded him of his youth. He wasn’t quite sure if his hunch was accurate, but if he remembered his little brother’s last words to him correctly, then the emperor might be a white rabbit to get closer to his goal.</p><p>“Kurapika,” he had said out of the blue, startling the blonde from where he’d been focused on a tapestry.</p><p>“Yes?” he responded, used to Chrollo’s random comments and demands. </p><p>“In fifty moons time, I shall be departing on a voyage. I’ve no clue when I am to return.” Kurapika’s ears perked up.</p><p>“A voyage for what?” he asked, before returning to his cross-stitching with renewed vigor. Likely Chrollo would be gone to monitor overseas alliances, to supervise a war that had broken out in a district, or maybe to locate new shipments of materials and foods. It would not be the first time the Emperor had left for a set amount of time, and Kurapika would not entirely mind the peace and quiet that his voyages brought him. He was certainly less than fond of the man, but there was not much he could do about Chrollo’s insistence on visiting him thrice a week.</p><p>The Emperor chewed on his thumbnail distractedly, watching Kurapika’s hands fly over the silk with practice. “I believe I have found a solid lead on the subject of the sword that I’ve been searching for all these years,” he announced finally. Kurapika’s stitching looped over itself and he cursed, halting his ministrations before carefully untangling the needle out of the fabric and setting it down on his lap. <em>Smooth.</em></p><p>“Oh?” he probed, raising his eyes up to Chrollo’s which were focusing somewhere over his left shoulder. “And what would this lead be?” Chrollo shook his head, pressing a finger to his smirking lips.</p><p>“I’ve told you before, dearest. I simply cannot indulge this kind of information with commonfolk such as yourself.” The taunt rolled off of Kurapika’s skin, which had hardened over time into a sort of armor against Chrollo’s retorts. Kurapika scoffed and stood up, looping fabrics around hooks before wrapping a shawl around himself to go outside in. It was quickly turning dark outside, and the nights out on the street were always colder during a frigid month like December, every day inching closer to the New Year.</p><p>Kurapika had intended to see Chrollo off as he usually did, practically shoving the man out of his abode, but the Emperor did not move and merely looked up to the sky, watching as streaks of purplish-pink hues exploded into millions of small shards. Kurapika squinted his eyes and flinched involuntarily from the loud noise that erupted in the sky.</p><p>“Fireworks,” Chrollo said, as though he had to explain what they were. Kurapika pushed the man in the shoulder (albeit lightly, because he didn’t want to be arrested for acts of aggression against the Emperor).</p><p>“I am well aware of what fireworks are, thank you. I was not born yesterday.” Chrollo chuckled, turning to face a huffing Kurapika who was clutching his wrap around himself like a child. </p><p>“Yes, I know,” he chided. “I was just thinking to myself how the color is akin to your eyes when you are mad, beautiful shades of red. How your hair shines under the light, near-blinding in its glory. And how the sound of the detonation, so thunderous that it seems to shake the ground, is so alike to the sound of my own heart when I am with you.”</p><p>Kurapika sputtered, his cheeks rising in color to the sudden declaration. “I know of fireworks, but I am not one,” was all he could come up with. When his usual smart comments failed him, he resorted to his common suspicion. “Did you plan all of this?”</p><p>Chrollo raised his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, letting his dark hair fall backwards. “So what if I did? You always seem to be speaking of marriage, and seeing as my voyage is coming up, I had thought to myself <em>“What better time to ask for her hand in marriage?”</em> Plus, Beijing needs someone to uphold the throne while I’m gone. So, there was not too much thought out into my decision.” He looked expectantly at Kurapika, who was frozen in place. <br/><br/><em>I was not anticipating this so soon. </em></p><p>“That’s assuming I accept your proposal,” he commented with a standoffish air. Chrollo’s mouth hung open, turning to face Kurapika.</p><p>“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’m the wealthiest man in this country. If you marry me, you will be the most powerful woman China has ever known, getting to uphold the throne in absence of her husband. You would never have to return to this little upheaval you call a shop.” That one hurt Kurapika’s ego the slightest bit.</p><p>“I’m aware,” he said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around how quickly the events of the night had turned. “Surely you are able to understand that this is all very overwhelming. Would you possibly consider giving me a week's time to think? Please,” he pleaded, bringing out his charms. His lips were pinched into a small pout, and his eyes turned watery on cue. Chrollo blinked down at him, surely seeing a pitiful woman in front of him, at a loss of what to say.</p><p>Finally, Chrollo seemed to come to a conclusion. “Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me,” he decided. “I will permit you a week in which I shall not visit, and you may make your choice. But, before I leave, please remember that this is an olive branch extended to someone I think would deem fit to rule alongside me. You would have everything you have ever wanted in your life, and more. I would also like to kindly remind you that, for as well as you will be known once you accept my proposal, no one will ever remember the small, quaint life of a merchant on the streets.” Chrollo pursed his lips, calculating Kurapika silently before swishing his robes behind him with a spin on his heel.</p><p>“That is all. Expect me back in a week, and have a good rest of your night.” He exited the alleyway as Kurapika stood in the middle of the road, the wheels in his brain whirring as he started to close his shop. Kurapika noticed absently that the fireworks had ended, making the cold night’s air undisturbed and empty.</p><p>It wasn’t as though Kurapika hadn’t been expecting the Emperor to propose to him. He was vaguely aware of the appeal that he provided men, and he understood why a young unmarried person such as Chrollo might be interested in someone as himself. At the same time, he did not trust the Emperor with a twenty-foot pole and was in no hurry to abandon his humble life on the streets.</p><p>There was also the slight problem that Chrollo seemed to believe that he was a woman, and while Kurapika was okay with that in theory, he was not so ignorant that he assumed Chrollo would be okay with the fact that he had been leading him on. Also, he valued his life, for who knew what sort of violence Chrollo would inflict on him when he found out Kurapika was not able to bear children? Standing in the dim light, Kurapika bit his lip thoughtfully.</p><p>It seemed to himself that there were only two options at hand; accept the proposal and pray that Chrollo would never return from his voyage. Or, deny the marriage and be killed silently in the night, as he was sure Chrollo would order one of his servants to do without even batting an eyelash.</p><p>In the dim light of the alleyway, where a couple of rats scrambled in the dark, Kurapika started to formulate a third plan in his mind. One that could very well end up getting himself killed in the process. It could also get him one step closer to closing the chapter on his past that he’d been so sure he’d pushed into the recesses of his mind.</p><p>Sleep did not come to him easily that night, as if punishing Kurapika for the kinds of thoughts he was brewing up in an angry sea of red.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Having a week all to himself was a luxury that Kurapika had missed for all too long. He was able to wake up and not have to swathe himself in long dress robes, instead reaching for a high-necked tunic that clung to his thin chest. He still wore a skirt, but it only covered up to his shins, making walking and running about so much easier than it had in the stuffy garments he usually reserved for Chrollo’s visits.</p><p>It was on the third day of his short-lived freedom that the gifts started flooding in, one by one in packages wrapped with red ribbons that Kurapika would weave into his hair occasionally. The boxed contained smaller gifts at first, like a shining ear cuff enladen with rubies (that Kurapika was particularly fond of, seeing as it went with next to every single one of his outfits), eventually progressing to larger gifts such as full cloaks of the most fine silk Kurapika had ever worn on his body.</p><p>The packages had no labels on them, but it was clear to Kurapika who the sender was. Day to night, trinkets were being shipped off to his home, and though it was nice to be spoiled for once, there was a sense of underlying foreboding, and worst of all <em>guilt</em>, that accompanied it all.</p><p>Allowing himself his first break in close to five years, Kurapika sold any gifts that he didn’t absolutely need and made out like a bandit, receiving enough gold coins to give him a break for the next five years to come. After closing the shop and gathering his things, Kurapika muttered a small goodbye and bowed in front of his little hut, flipping the sign over to “closed” for the last time before setting off down the alleyway.</p><p>Despite living in the area, Kurapika hardly ever got the chance to meander aimlessly around Beijing’s outskirts, alight with motion and constantly changing. With all of his things packed up on his back, Kurapika milled about the miles-long market before finally finding a small inn to stay the night.</p><p>It was quite quaint, with peeling orange paint and a large circular entrance. It’s rooms were practically stacked one atop the other, and maids in uniforms of dark blues and greys that seemed to sweep the dirty grounds for them were bustling about the inn, rushing from one floor to the next without stopping to address their newest customer.</p><p>Kurapika enjoyed the fact that the inn was somewhat self-service and made his way to a small wooden desk at the front, knocking on the wood to get the attention of someone. Finally a woman, too young to be called old yet certainly more aged than Kurapika, answered his calls and came quickly with a deep bow.</p><p>“Hello, Miss. My apologies for the wait,” she said, pushing her round glasses further up her nose from where they were slipping. “How many nights will you be staying for?”</p><p>Kurapika reconsidered his initial plan. Originally he had been intending on staying for only one night’s time, yet the atmosphere of the inn and its workers was inviting in a way that he hadn’t felt before. He reached deep into his silk’s pocket and pulled out a heavy fistful of coins, placing them on the tabletop.</p><p>“As many nights as this can get me,” he declared with a small smile at the shorter woman. Her eyebrows raised as she collected the pieces into a little box and took a key from the display behind her, beckoning for Kurapika to follow her.</p><p>“Then I suppose you shall be here for a while,” she stated, “and we may as well become acquainted.” </p><p>Kurapika chuckled a little before following her down one of the many halls, each leading to its own set of multicoloured doors. She gestured about all over the place, describing different rooms and its occupants.</p><p>“My name is Cheadle,” she said. “I’m the head maid here, so if you have any problems with your lodging, please let me know.” Cheadle reached a finger out to tap at a door painted in a deep emerald hue with a smirk. “This is a lady named Baise’s room. She checked in about a week ago, and already she’s brought in a different man each night. Now, don’t tell her husband I said that,” she spilled with a little smile. <em>It would appear that the maids working here, or at least Cheadle, is quite the gossip,</em> Kurapika remarked, though not unkindly.</p><p>“The couple in <em>this</em> room,” Cheadle gestured widely, “are absolute gluttons, I tell you! In <em>two days</em> they managed to order room service a total of fifteen times. Our cook has been positively overexerting himself trying to keep up with their demands. And the woman, if she doesn’t like the food, she will give you an earful. And THIS room…”</p><p>Kurapika began to block out the chattering, suddenly feeling very tired and being lulled by the sounds of Cheadle’s voice and the low murmuring of voices that came from the rooms all around him. He nodded or <em>mhm</em>ed every once in a while just to spur Cheadle on, enjoying the fact that he didn’t have to contribute too much to the conversation.</p><p>They finally reached his room’s door with what had felt like an eternity of walking, and Cheadle pushed the key into the slot with a small creak and groan. The door itself was a dull shade of mustard yellow, but the room seemed to be in pretty good shape despite the odd color choices.</p><p>It was a nice change of pace to be able to sit in a room that had a proper window, extending into a <em>balcony</em> that overlooked the main road. Kurapika had never lived in anything other than a one-story shack and so he was delighted to be able to shed off his backpack and rush over to the patio, pulling back the curtains and poking his head out.</p><p>The breeze ruffled his bangs peacefully as he looked down at the dirt road, where endless amounts of people walked every single day, leaving smudged footprints in the thin layer of sand that dusted the roads. Cheadle watched him with a chuckle, readjusting her glasses for the fifth time and looking over the rims.</p><p>“You aren’t from here, are you?” she said simply, causing Kurapika to whip around quickly.</p><p>“What gave you that impression?” Kurapika asked, not entirely denying her claim. She shrugged and took a seat on a ratty blue chair at the foot of the bed.</p><p>“A hunch, perhaps. The way you carry yourself. The fact that you seem like you're experiencing our small quarters for the first time in your life.” Kurapika smiled sheepishly; it was in his nature to be curious by the world around him, and he’d wasted most of his childhood away trying to sustain a living for himself to  be spending his days exploring Beijing. Instead he slaved away behind a table of silks, waking up every day to pick up the things he left when he fell asleep, slowly wasting away without a purpose in life.</p><p>So maybe he was bored with his life. It certainly hadn’t turned out the way he had assumed it would, back when he was a kid. He’d imagined a brilliant life of adventure, and action, and all the fantasies that fill an impressionable young mind. Perchance, the development of Chrollo’s proposing would offer him a new life ahead. Perhaps, if he allowed himself to dream, he would have an interesting life yet.</p><p>And so, he met her statement with a lopsided grin. “You’re right on all accounts,” he revealed, “for I am was not born in lower-district Beijing. Have you ever heard of Wudang Mountain?”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>From then on, whenever a maid was sent to change the sheets in Kurapika’s room, or to bring up a cup of tea, Cheadle would insist on going herself, wanting more time to spend talking with Kurapika. She found him fascinating in conversation, for he knew when to talk and knew when to listen. He also didn’t mind her tendency to ramble on about her day and what had annoyed her about it.</p><p>Like Chrollo, Cheadle mistook him for a woman and referred to him as such. Often her loud call of “Miss Kurapika!” carried down the inn’s hallways, and Kurapika had begun to grow attached to the woman, which was a problem seeing as he only had a day left between himself and marriage. Least to say, he wasn’t thrilled to have to break the news to her.</p><p>And that's how he found himself in a crowded teahouse, spilling his life’s secrets to his chambermaid that he’d met only a week ago. It had seemed like so much longer since they’d known each other, and Kurapika found himself very comfortable in her presence. He daresay that Cheadle was the first person who’d begun to feel like a memory of home.</p><p>On the morning of the day when he was to reach his decision, Kurapika walked the long way back to his old shop, closed down and void of any signs of life. He donned his finest robes, the ones Chrolo had gifted him, seeing as he found it rather fitting. If he were to sell himself to the man, he may as well wear the clothes that were bought with the Emperor’s filthy money. Kurapika felt no warmth in the silk he was swathed in.</p><p>Chrollo’s face lit up when he saw Kurapika wearing the robes, smirking in delight, for what kind of a woman would be able to turn down his gifts? He was likely feeling overconfident, silently victorious that not even a woman as fierce as Kurapika could resist his wiles. Kurapika said nothing, but knew in his heart that the reason he was going along with the marriage was not for small pleasantries such as gifts.</p><p>“Good morning, Kurapika,” Chrollo greeted, dropping the prefix and rushing straight into first-name basis. Kurapika bristled with distaste but held a straight face; it was not a stretch, perhaps, to call your wife by their first name. Kurapika just didn’t like the sound of his beautiful name, originating from his place of birth nestled in the mountains, slandered by Chrollo’s tongue.</p><p>“It is, indeed,” he said, looking around. Although they were rapidly nearing the month of February, the month of the Chinese New Year, it did not appear as though mother nature was informed. The air hung low with humidity and fog, but other than that, the cold was not particularly notable.</p><p>“You’ve come to a plausible conclusion, I assume?” Chrollo asked, lightly impatient. Kurapika admired the fact that he held up his end of the bargain and resisted visiting Kurapika to personally drop off the gifts. Some of which, Kurapika noticed with a small chuckle, had piled up at his old door while he’d been living at the inn. “I certainly hope my decision will be plausible for the both of us,” Kurapika retorted, before dropping his hands in front of himself. This was a deciding moment; once he agreed to Chrollo’s proposal, there was no going back.</p><p>“I will marry you,” Kurapika said to an impassive scoundrel who seemed to be expecting his words with a calm air. “On the terms that-”</p><p>“Terms?” His face was no longer impassive now, the corners of his mouth tipping downwards into a disapproving frown. Kurapika basked in the sight of ticking off the Emperor. “Yes, if you would be so kind as to not interrupt,” Kurapika rolled his eyes. “Leading up to the wedding, I wish to live apart from you. I’d like to say goodbye to my friends before moving in with you, on the day of the marriage.”</p><p>Chrollo raised his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest, the frown easing into an uncaring expression. “That’s fine. I’ve no problem with it,” he decreed, “so long as you are there for the marriage, we have the rest of our ruling together.” His words churned Kurapika’s stomach, but the blonde forced a smile out at the Emperor, reassuring his soon-to-be <em>husband</em>.</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Cheadle had let out an excited yelp when he returned to the inn, tugging off his slippers huffily and slipping into his room sulkily. Opposed to him in emotions, the maid danced around him while praising the Emperor and his greatness.</p><p>“Oh hush, he’s nothing special,” Kurapika grumbled and sinked backwards into a plush armchair, bringing his knees up to his chest. Cheadle loomed over him, looking disbelieving through her bug-eyed glasses.</p><p>“How could you possibly be gloomy when you’re about to become the Emperor’s wife? Why, that’s an opportunity of a lifetime!” she declared angrily, before her tone took a quieter, sad turn. “You are certainly lucky that a nice young woman such as yourself will be set for life. I am glad, at least, that even if your marriage is loveless, you will never find yourself on the streets. Because it’s tough, I know,” Cheadle said, taking a spot next to Kurapika and smiling gently into her lap.</p><p>Kurapika felt a rush of guilt pass through him, sensing an untold story under Cheadle’s words. “I’m sorry,” he admitted, reaching for Cheadle’s hand and holding it lightly in his own, her well-worked hands feeling like soft leather beneath his own. “I promise I’ll be more considerate. I realize that I’ve been a brat about the whole thing.” Cheadle swiped at her eyes, going to swat Kurapika in the back of his head.</p><p>“That’s not what I mean,” Cheadle said exasperatedly. “Really, I’m not quite too sure what I’m trying to tell you. Maybe I’m just getting emotional, seeing you get married so soon. Reminds me of my own daughters.” Kurapika raised his eyebrows in surprise.</p><p>“You have children?” he asked. Cheadle narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion, reviewing his words. </p><p>“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take that as an insult or a compliment, but oh well,” she sighed in response to Kurapika’s sheepish grin. “Yes, I was married, to a lazy, no-good <em>slacker</em>. My daughters are long gone, they got married as soon as they were old enough to live off of their own money. I actually turned our house into this inn,” she boasted proudly, patting the arm of the chair proudly. Once again, Kurapika’s mouth fell wide open.</p><p>“This was your house? Do you come from a wealthy family?” he asked, not intending for his question to sound too intrusive, merely coming from a place of interest. Cheadle waved her hand about. “No, our house was a cheap little thing, right off the side of the market. It took me years and years to slowly build on it, extending the rooms until I ended up with this mighty creation. This inn has been with me through a lot,” she said fondly.</p><p>Kurapika nodded his head and rested his chin on his knees, leaning in to spend his afternoon chatting idly with Cheadle as his thoughts brewed sluggishly. She tried her best to entertain Kurapika until his head started to lull to the side, despite it being only late in the afternoon. With a motherly exhale, she leaned over to bring Kurapika over to his bed to let him rest, tutting annoyedly when she saw the dark purple circles under his eyes.</p><p>The hardest part about running an inn was that it was merely a crossroads, a place where people were constantly arriving and leaving without warning. It was simply too hard not to get attached to some visitors, and it made Cheadle reevaluate her job whenever she met nice people like Kurapika, who would be gone before long. She supposed it was because he reminded her of her own child - and just like seeing them go, it would certainly be hard to say goodbye to him when the time came.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Kurapika’s sleep often consisted of blurring colors, low voices and grotesque scenes, scaring him at how realistic and vivid they seemed. But whenever he would have a particularly gruesome dream, he found himself thinking about his younger brother Pairo, who used to have recurring nightmares not unlike his own. It hurt Kurapika to realise that he was quickly forgetting the face of his own brother, and he threw off the sheets of the bed with a shudder of disgust in himself.</p><p>He padded around the room with a sigh, developing into a large yawn that he stifled with his hand. Before he was to be tied to Chrollo in everything from name to his body, Kurapika planned to take advantage of his freedom. He slunk out of the inn early in the morning, his robe’s hood providing him both shelter from the cold and a barrier between him and the people who often blatantly stared at his hair. Not that many people were up at the hour, only a couple of stores beginning  to set up the things in front of their displays and battered tables.</p><p>For all his eighteen years of living, the idea of getting a tattoo had never occurred to Kurapika until intrigue hit him in the face, <em>hard</em>. He had been thinking about little acts of rebellion that he could pull off, and this was definitely at the top of his list. An engaged woman was not to be prancing around with ink on her if her husband did not approve, after all.</p><p>Which was precisely why, today, Kurapika pulled his hair into a low bun, bypassing his usual dresses and instead wearing some loose silk pants that cinched at the waist, conserving <em>some</em> illusion of his figure. He also went early to avoid being seen by Cheadle, who, as far as he knew, firmly believed him to be a woman. Which he felt guilty about, a little bit at least, but it was better for the both of them to not reveal his identity to anyone. After all, if the word somehow spread to Chrollo before time was due, Kurapika would surely go through hell.</p><p>With a shake of his head, Kurapika passed by the streets quickly like a man on a mission, craning his neck behind himself every two seconds out of habit. It wasn’t like he could help himself; he was made cautious by nature. It was in his blood, seeing as Kurtans often regarded anything and anyone that wasn’t their own kind to be threats. Which was probably why he had such a hard time trusting anyone in poor-district Beijing. </p><p>The ink shop that he was looking for was a little bit off the regular road, a little place filled with either overtly muscular or worryingly twiggy men, all of which looking like they desperately needed a good bath. Needless to say, Kurapika felt ill at ease as he took a seat sandwiched between two men, folding one leg over the other while trying to mind his own business. That didn’t stop the man on his right from giving him a vicious side-eye, and Kurapika ignored it until the staring grew unbearable.</p><p>“What?” he snapped unwisely, swivelling his head to face flashing eyes at the much larger man. The offender stroked his messy beard and grimaced indignantly at Kurapika’s shrill voice.</p><p>“What’s a prim lady like you doing in this neck’a town?” he drawled, making Kurapika focus on the long scar that ran from his eyebrow down to his chin. </p><p>Kurapika rolled his eyes. “I’m here for the same thing you are. Now, if you could mind your own business…?” </p><p>The fiend seemed disturbed by his answer, not used to being ordered around by someone half his size. “Are you lookin’ for a fight?” he asked, sizing Kurapika up. The blonde was two seconds away from raising his fists, himself, before a wiry looking man ran up to them anew.</p><p>“Please, no fighting,” he said and gestured to a sign with the finest print Kurapika had ever seen. Regardless, Kurapika hadn’t been looking for a fight so he dropped it, jutting his lip out childishly. The man beside him seemed to give up, too, and tapped his foot like a pest on the dirty floor until Kurapika was called over to a little room, only big enough for two men to sit cross-legged.</p><p>The same man from before had snapped on a pair of bull-hide gloves and adjusted his spectacles, dipping a long, thin needle that resembled the ones that practitioners used for acupuncture into a small pot of jet black ink. He gestured for Kurapika to sit down next to him on the <em>tatami</em> mat and so he did, taking his place with a swish of long fabric.</p><p>“What sort of design were you thinking of?’ the artist asked him kindly, his eyes practically disappearing in the folds of his weathering face as he smiled toothlessly at Kurapika. Not like his usual calculating, pre-prepared self, Kurapikla had decided to not put any thought into what tattoo he was to get until he arrived in the moment, giving himself a nice change of pace form the usual grueling mind games he forced upon his brain.</p><p>He was looking for the words to say, trying to concoct a scene or image in his head as he glanced around the room thoughtlessly before the familiar sound of scattering itched the corners of his consciousness. “Mice?” Kurapika asked the artist with a cock of his head, trying to detect the source of the small footprints.</p><p>“Rats,” the artist said with a small shake of his head. “The nasty vermin always find ways to burrow into this shop every year, despite us flushing them out with cats. It’s a lost cause.” With the statement, Kurapika got a sudden flash of inspiration.</p><p>“Do you do back tattoos, here?” Kurapika asked, receiving a deep nod. </p><p>“As long as you don’t mind paying a fairly hefty sum,” the artist chuckled heartily. Kurapika grinned roguishly, only starting to realise just how deep he could reach into his pockets due to the addition of Chrollo in his life.</p><p>“That’s fine. Money is no longer an issue,” he chirped before beginning to pull off his robe.</p><p>
  <em>(And as he did so, the artist turned away from him sheepishly, closing his eyes. Kurapika had thrown his hands down to his sides, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s alright to look. I’m actually a man,” he revealed. The artist had apologized profusely, but Kurapika only waved his hand absently before settling down chest-first on the mat, flexing his back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m used to it,” he admitted with a small giggle.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Blissful days of tea and long conversations with Cheadle passed by in a blur as Kurapika tried to push the wedding as far out of his mind as possible. However, as the first hints of red started to blossom all around the marketplace to honor the festivities that were arriving for the New Year, Kurapika’s blissful ignorance came to a halt. </p><p>Cheadle rushed into his bedchamber one day, waving a slip of parchment in her hand excitedly as she hurried over to Kurapika’s side. He sat up with a frustrated huff and rubbed his eyes, trying to ease into the daylight streaming through the tattered drapes all the while Cheadle waved a piece of paper under his nose. Finally reaching the end of his patience, Kurapika grabbed the dancing paper out of his friend’s hands.</p><p>“Give me that,” he snapped with no real anger in his voice. Cheadle just grinned widely and bounced on the soles of her silk slippers. Kurapika’s mood worsened further as his head bagn to swim, taking in the contents of the letter with a heavy frown tugging his eyebrows downward. It was none other than a wedding invitation from the Emperor himself, addressed to the townspeople.</p><p><em>“</em><em>We invite the whole of Beijing to join us for a very special coming-of-the New Year by welcoming the new addition of the imperial family, Emperor Chrollo’s wife-to-be. On the day of the New Year, a streetwide parade shall travel through the town…”</em> Kurapika held a hand to his chest, aghast. “A parade? Is he daft?” he asked pointedly. “There is every opportunity to plan an attack against the Imperial family if we romp down the streets like dimwitted <em>buffoons.</em>”</p><p>Cheadle flicked Kurapika’s nose and he startled quickly, flattening the loose strands of his bangs that fell into his eyes. “A parade makes plenty of sense,” she argued. “The people need to be able to feel closer to the Emperor’s new wife, for surely they will be anxious to meet her. And can’t you just picture the absolute uproar that the two of you will cause when everyone finds out that the new Empress of Beijing was a street vendor? My, if that isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard...” Cheadle left off with a sigh, practically swooning at the foot of Kurapika’s bed. He, for one, felt revolted by Chrollo’s showy acts of grandeur.</p><p>Kurapika hopped out of bed quickly, intending on rushing down to the bathroom in the inn, which had working <em>showers</em>, a miracle among miracles. Never before had he experienced the pleasure of rubbing off all of the dirt and grime that coated his skin with a clear mind as he did in the small bamboo stall downstairs. In fact, it might’ve been one of his favorite parts about being wealthy so far, the fact that constant cleanliness was accessible.</p><p>However, there was something so <em>diluted</em> about letting the thin stream of water trickle out of the nozzle and run down the slopes of his skin, pooling up in his collarbones that trapped the majority of the flow. Recalling a quick flash of his childhood, Kurapika remembered going down to the river with Pairo, a little ridge that jutted out of the mountainside and met up with the major stream at the top of the mountain. It was there that they’d bring their fluffy bath towels and braided slippers, along with bars of soaps made from plants and minerals, and they’d splash about in the stream that spilled endlessly from the top of the mountain.</p><p>Kurapika’s mom used to tell the two of them about an old Kurtan myth, that at the very top of the mountain where no one had ever climbed before, a young deity lay weeping over the death of her lover, cursed to be forever haunted by sorrow. In doing so, to help lift her burdens, the Kurtas would play happily in the river of her tears, trying to cheer her up and make the best use of her malediction as possible. Or so the story went, at least. Kurapika and Pairo were just thankful for the fact that they never had to worry about having to go down the mountain for fresh water if they ever ran out, a childish fret made up by young clanschildren as they whispered to each other in hushed tones.</p><p>As well as getting the chance to be clean, Kurapika used to enjoy those kinds of days that he got to spend with Pairo, when he’d hold him by the hand and help him into the water carefully. Being the oldest of the two, and therefore the most responsible, Kurapika had taken it upon himself to teach Pairo how to stay afloat in the current. His brother always blew air at his face and laughed whenever Kurapika brought up his concerns.</p><p>“But, Kurapika, you should know that I’m never going to need to know how to swim,” Pairo had giggled once, to which Kurapika spluttered indignantly.</p><p>“You might!” he had argued. “The voyager told me that at the bottom of the mountain, a little outside of town, there’s a big ocean where they ship products in and out from different countries. Did you even know that there are other countries? He showed me a map, once, and it was the most exquisite thing.” Kurapika was practically vibrating as he started to describe how a map worked passionately. Pairo just shook his head and dipped his feet into the salty mountain water.</p><p>Like a painful reminder that he was now separated from his brother, and had been for the past five years, the water in the shower switched from a pleasant warm to an icy cold not unlike how it felt to stand outside on the streets during the current weather. Kurapika swore in shock as it hit the back of his neck, quickly plugging the stream and wrapping a towel around himself to cover up his shivering body. His hands found their way to muss up his hair, stringy from the dampness and losing its usual platinum sheen. He changed very quickly, fearing that someone like Cheadle would walk in and discover his deception by accident.</p><p>As the fabric of the robe tickled his back, Kurapika felt the need to swear again, even louder than before. His skin was still tender from where he’d gotten inked recently. Thankfully, the swelling and redness had long since reduced, but it was painful nonetheless seeing as he had endured hours of the tattoo artist poking at his back, one needle at a time, often going back to his pot to coat the needle anew in the permanent substance. All the while, Kurapika had grit his teeth and closed his eyes shut, determined not to make so much as a sound in respect for the man who slaved over the details of his request as the morning quickly turned into nightfall outside of the shop.</p><p>Though he was very pleased with how the ink had turned out, seeing as he would occasionally catch glimpses of it in the mirror hanging in his chamber, Kurapika decided that he would never get anything else done to his body. He had gotten the tattoo as a statement, not as the start of a collection. Especially since having a back tattoo was convenient, for not many people would ever get to see it, sauf for one man that came to Kurapika’s mind with a scowl. He was in no rush at all for that moment to come, if it ever did.</p><p>Regardless of his disturbed headspace, Kurapika made his way to the main kitchens where they served breakfast every morning, a routine that Kurapika tended to enjoy seeing as he hardly ever got to eat three full meals a day when he lived on the streets. A bowl of rice noodles and a tray of plums which he stole from often was Kurapika’s go-to, as he and Cheadle sat together to talk, or, on days when Kurapika was feeling unmotivated to do anything but slurp up his food quietly, stare through the small inn window out onto the streets with occasional sighs interrupting his eating.</p><p>When he retired to his bedchamber, lugging a hefty satchel of books that he’d allowed himself to indulge in down at the shop in the market, he found that something was lying on top of his freshly made bed. The room looked insanely warm and comfortable, especially with the soft flecks of snow that hit the fogged window panes from outside. His hair was slightly damp again, the tips of his long bob sticking together from the cold. Kurapika set his bag down gently on his armchair and padded over to the foot of his bed curiously.</p><p>A small gasp left his lips when he looked down, taking in the sight of a necklace, a shiny gem in the shape of an oval clasped onto the center. Besides it, a pair of matching silver bangles resting on a velvet pouch. He ran his fingers over them gently as the door to his room opened with a little creak. Kurapika swivelled his head around, feeling as though he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.</p><p>“Are these yours?” he asked quietly, shuffling on his feet nervously as Cheadle poked her head into the room. The diamonds caught the glow from the oil lamp burning away on his nightstand, filling the air with the smoky haze of lavender and fire.</p><p>“They <em>were</em> mine,” Cheadle corrected while nodding her head. “When I got married to my husband,” - her nose turned up - “I was about your age, I’d say. Maybe younger. The wedding doesn’t bring back the most pleasant of memories, but I remember my mother giving me these beautiful pieces of jewelry as a gift for the day and I just couldn’t let go of them. And it’s a good thing I didn’t, too!” She exclaimed suddenly, her voice pitching higher as though she could banish away any hints of sadness by increasing her excitement tenfold. The effect made Kurapika wince a little.</p><p>“Because if I had, I would never have been able to pass them along to you, dear. I must sound like an old griever, unmarried and alone, but I hope you know I regard you as one of my own daughters. And so, I thought maybe you could wear these pieces to your wedding with the Emperor.” Cheadle blushed the slightest bit as Kurapika’s lips parted, immeasurably grateful and overcome with affection for the older maid.</p><p>He let his arms fall to his sides. “Miss Cheadle- I couldn’t accept these,” Kurapika insisted weakly. His manners were intercepted the wrong way as Cheadle’s face visibly fell, her hands worrying themselves over.</p><p>“Oh no, you're right! How could I dare give the future Empress my hand-me downs. Of course you don’t have to wear them, Miss Kurapika. I’m sorry for my foolishness,” she stooped into a quick bow, clearly upset but trying to repress her emotions. Kurapika’s cheeks rose in color and he stammered for one of the first times in his life. Dealing with matters of the heart was not his forte.</p><p>“Ah! No, that’s not what I meant,” he pardoned, trying to calm down his maid. Her head tilted up the slightest bit, her spectacles balancing precariously where they sat pinched on the bridge of her nose. “What I meant to say was, I’ve never received such a thoughtful gift. The Emperor himself has given me many gems and threads as an offering for my hand in marriage, but they are empty, with no meaning at all. These pieces, however, they mean a lot to you. And I would be delighted to wear them to the ceremony.”</p><p>He ended his small clarification by biting on his lip to stop himself from rambling on. Cheadle, in her turn, slowly regained her usual rod-straight posture and looked at him with proud, albeit slightly watery eyes. “Do you really mean it?” she asked happily, her mouth turning upwards, “You aren’t just favoring the wishes of a poor maid, now are you?” Kurapika laughed her words off, for they held sentiments of lightheartedness in them, and got down on his knees to kneel before the jewels.</p><p>“Of course not,” he assured Cheadle. “I truly, truly love them. Thank you.” His abashedness was worth it to see the expression that shone through his maid’s face. In many ways, Cheadle was to Kurapika a motherly figure that he hadn’t had around for most of his life. Just to back up his words, Kurapika attempted to put on the necklace but failed horribly. His fingers were nimble, but as soon as he took upon himself the task of tying the small chain, Kurapika lost his dignity with a huff that blew his bangs up before coming back down to tickle the top of his nose.</p><p>Cheadle smiled earnestly at his effort and came to kneel behind him on the carpeted ground. “Great gods, have you never put on a necklace before?” she scolded him, but it was clear that the phrase lacked sentiment. Kurapika shrugged sheepishly and allowed her to take the necklace from him, clasping it behind his neck while he held up his hair. After a couple of seconds, he felt the strangely comforting sensation of the small gem resting in the curve of his chest, slightly lower than his collarbones.</p><p>He got up suddenly to look at himself in the mirror. Kurapika hardly recognized the person staring back at him; his identity changed with his surroundings, thus warping his perception of himself. The only things he knew solidly about himself was his goals, his reasons to wake up in the morning, and the people he cared about. And if he lacked the will to live, well, he’d push through the feeling and find a reason. It was that attitude that had gotten him this far.</p><p>The more he stared at himself, the more he wondered if his parents might be looking over him from their resting spot atop the mountain. Maybe. Perhaps not. Kurapika had never been particularly fond of the stories of afterlife and all, the notion of staying around to look after those who were still living. He himself would prefer to be reborn as an animal, or a plant or even a seashell and get to live an adventure. Or at least, that had been his way of thinking when he was a little kid.</p><p>Now, all Kurapika wanted was to survive his wedding, which would take place when he woke up in the morning and would span all the way until the night. Most of all, Kurapika decided, he was dreading having to say goodbye to the inn and to see Chrollo again. He’d become so accustomed to the amazingly free life that he’d lived for a month, being able to make his own decisions without everyone’s eyes on him. Needless to say, Kurapika went to bed later in the day with a heavy conscience, his sleep restless and fretful as he mentally prepared himself for one of the worst days of his life.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>Start of the Year of the Dragon, 1700. New Year’s Day.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kurapika was up long before he saw the troupe of black robes making their way down the street to the inn, causing quite the commotion on the lower floor of the inn. He himself had been sitting by the windowsill during the early morning, gazing out at the bruised purpling sky as the sun rose up slowly, color not unlike that of a ripe peach. By the colors of the world around him, Kurapika felt like the only miserable person in all of Beijing. And maybe he was, for it was New Years and the turn of the century and he was <em>sulking</em> through it.</p><p>Nevertheless, when Cheadle creeped into his room to tell him that it was time to get ready for the parade, he feigned drowsiness and made it look like he had still been sleeping, not wanting her to worry about him. It was slightly worrying to Kurapika how easy it was to open his heart and care about someone like family again, especially after he lost his own practically overnight. It was <em>worrying</em>.</p><p>Kurapika figured he would have to sever ties with Cheadle eventually. He didn’t want her getting into trouble for any crimes that he may commit in the foreseeable future. That would absolutely crush him, to have someone else suffer because of his own mistakes. He told himself over in his head like a mantra that as soon as Cheadle came back he would tell her that they couldn’t be in contact anymore, but as she bustled through the doorway with a plate of his favorite fruit, sliced and candied on a plate adorned with flowers just for the occasion, the words died on his tongue. Kurapika realised that he really needed to cry, or hug someone, or both. But it was his wedding day and all of Beijing would be watching his every move, so for his own sake, he didn’t do either of those things.</p><p>The Emperor’s guards had come to deliver a set of robes that, from a designer’s perspective, were perfectly crafted down to the finest thread. Kurapika excused himself from the mass of members from the Emperor’s liege that had crowded in the main hall of the inn to take the garment up to his room. For one shining minute, the privacy was heaven on earth. He ran his fingers over the red material, inlaid with gold and black threading.</p><p>The skirt was fairly basic, the cut going down to his toes and making it difficult to walk in the style Kurapika liked to avoid. He buttoned up a loose silk top, the pale line of his neck being exposed due to the low neckline of the shirt which was to be covered with the overcoat, all long sleeves and miniscule detailing. Taking a quick glance in his mirror, the shirt and skirt alone was certainly too scandalous to wear to the wedding, leaving his chest open through the somewhat sheer material, but he liked it regardless. However, it made his stomach churn to think that Chrollo likely ordered the designer to come up with a revealing undershirt, and suddenly he couldn’t shrug on the matching overcoat fast enough, tying the sash just above his jutting hips with trembling hands.</p><p>Running late on time, Kurapika added a couple of his own modifications to the wedding outfit before he deemed himself ready. Specially for the occasion, he applied a thin, swooping line of black kohl with a slanted brush to his upper lash line before attaching Cheadle’s old necklace the way she had shown him. As the finishing touch, Kurapika pulled his hair off of his neck and twisted it up into a loose bun, latching it in place with the sparkly hair clip that Chrollo had given him for the occasion. Phantom strands of hair broke free and tickled his back, where he felt deceiving with his sensitive tattoo hidden under the layers of formalwear. </p><p>He admittedly didn’t have the easiest time getting downstairs from his room but stubbornly refused to let one of the guards escort him. So, with reckless abandon unwise of that of a bride on their wedding day, Kurapika grabbed onto the handrail and prayed to every god that he didn’t twist his ankle in his own damn shoes. He had bypassed binding his feet, as was normally expected for a new Empress, both because you wouldn’t be able to even see his feet under his skirt, as well as the fact that he quite honestly couldn’t care less about how people perceived him.</p><p>To make matters even worse, or perhaps better, depending on how Kurapika viewed his predicament, he was to wear a heavy veil that obscured his face from gawking passersby and inn-dwellers alike. He was quite a sight, adorned in bright red and flashing jewels while being flanked by the Emperor's coveted posse. At least the veil conserved his identity as well as his pride whilst he was being led through the streets like a pony. They hadn’t even met up with Chrollo yet and already Kurapika was feeling anxious in the large crowd, his hands furling and unfurling at his sides. Part of his unease stemmed from the fact that the guards surrounding had yet to even talk to him, restricting themselves to quick orders of “put this on” or “watch your step”, things of the like.</p><p>It pained Kurapika to turn his back on the inn, but at least he did it with a smile and a careful hug, allowing Cheadle to squeeze him for all of two seconds before pulling back abruptly. His eyes clouded over with rage as he heard one of the guards sniff disapprovingly from behind him and he whirled around, seething. To his dismay, the silk masks that they wore from their nose down to their shoulders provided no clue as to who the culprit was, so Kurapika let his anger drop unwillingly.</p><p>They finally arrived at the meeting point where the Emperor’s infamous carriage was waiting, closer to the palace and the main roads, further away from the slums. <em>Infamous</em> because Emperor Chrollo was known for taking sporadic visits down to the line of shops that dotted Beijing’s large marketspace, loudly announcing his presence with a ride that took about the entire width of the roads, leaving the smallest sliver of space for people to line up on the side of the road to peer anxiously into the carriage, hoping to get a glimpse of their ruler. Kurapika was proud to say that he had never done anything of the sort and preferred to lay low whenever the crowds rose into dangerous territory, where pickpockets thrived.</p><p>Once he came into view, the Emperor smiled down at him, wide and condescending. “Lovely to see you after so long. I hope you’re ready for the parade,” Chrollo said as he extended his hand to reach Kurapika’s and pull him up into the carriage. He was dressed in a black <em>lóngpáo</em>, silken-pressed dragon robes emblazoned with silver motifs. Kurapika merely dropped his head downwards and accepted Chrollo’s hand without further complaints, sitting in the horse-drawn carriage that had the top off specially for the occasion, so that the townspeople would be able to ogle at the couple as they passed.</p><p>To his merit, Chrollo kept respectfully quiet throughout the long ride, raising his hand every so often to wave or nod his head at spectators. Sometimes he would even accept a bouquet or two from florists who would extend the bundles to him excitedly. Kurapika kept to his own and sat stoically with his hand in his lap, watching impassively as the folk on the streets passed their judgment on him. If he really strained his ears among the hubbub, he could make out skeptic murmurs, comments about his shocking hair beneath the veil, his small figure. How his hair was so unlike that of the common Empress, being short, blonde and unruly opposed to the sleek, raven colored tresses that were associated with royalty.</p><p>Chrollo seemed to recognize the people’s thoughts and took delight in it, seemingly enjoying the controversy that he was causing by choosing to marry Kurapika. “It would appear that I was right,” he said, almost shocking Kurapika after being quiet for so long, “deciding to have you as my wife has proven to be most amusing.” And with his words he folded his arms behind himself and tipped his head backwards as Kurapika glared at him through his veil.</p><p>“I’m <em>glad</em>,” Kurapika snipped through clenched teeth, causing Chrollo’s canines to be revealed in a small smile whilst keeping his eyes closed. It would appear the Emperor was some sort of some cruel masochist, opting to marry a woman with which he hardly had any chemistry with. Perhaps, as some would say, he was a man who enjoyed a challenge.</p><p>“Now, darling, I didn’t mean to offend. However, I highly recommend you lie back and enjoy yourself, for the parade ends only once the sun sets. Get comfortable.” Kurapika suppressed a loud groan, feeling the tendrils of a headache coming on. At least the cold wasn’t too unbearable seeing as he was swathed under layers of fabric and the flurries of snow had long since stopped for the year. </p><p>Regardless, the streets and rows of people stretched on as far as he could see, and even further beyond that. Kurapika took Chrollo’s advice and slouched back into the cushions with a grumble, fantasizing about the things he’d rather endure than this cruel torture called <em>marriage</em>.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The ride through the main district of Beijing had gone as well as Kurapika could have hoped for, despite the tingling in his fingers and ears from the cold. They had made their way to a temple a little ways off from the town, closer to the palace, where they sat on silk cushions and listened to a small man ramble on about the coming of a new year and new power, celebrating their marriage with twin cups of wine and honey, attached with a singular red string.</p><p>Kurapika sat through the rituals willingly, happy to be anywhere but back outside in the cold. Sooner than he would have liked, though, they were ushered out of the temple and thrust back outside, enduring the long winding road that led all the way up to the Imperial Castle. They passed over the small bridge that Kurapika had walked on a while back, seeing that the water flowing under it was mostly frozen over with a foggy sheen. The reeds on the banks of the river were tipped with ice and bunched together. Kurapika wondered briefly where the koi fish went in the winter, when the water froze over like it did.</p><p>Once they made it to the palace, passing under the large <em>pailou</em>, the arched gate that marked the entrance of the sprawling estate, Kurapika realized it would be his first time properly visiting the Emperor’s home. Sure, he had been in the garden before, but Kurapika found it almost ridiculous that he was getting married to someone without ever having been inside their house.</p><p>The guards that had been trailing them on dark mares hopped off of their saddles to pull open the heavy entrance doors, where they were met by a line of maids, each bowing so low that any further down and they would touch their noses to their feet. Kurapika and Chrollo passed them and walked side by side across the courtyard into the main hall, filled with lush carpets and numerous statues tilting precariously off of their ledges. What seemed to be the hide of a white tiger hung proudly from the wall, and next to it, a large display of mounted samurai swords. Their hilts shone in the candlelit room, beads and tassels swaying in the light draft that carried the scent of incense and dust.</p><p>Immediately, the environment felt imposing, unfriendly. As if Kurapika was disrupting the palace’s aura by setting foot inside its sacred grounds, his commoner blood tarnishing the Chinese monarchy’s reputation. He followed Chrollo’s quick pace as he navigated through hall upon hall, each one looking the same as the next. Kurapika tried to take in as much as he could, scrutinizing every last detail, mapping the palace inside of his head.</p><p>Chrollo led him up a long staircase, spanning over at least six stories, to two wooden doors stained in black and emblazoned with the imperial symbol of a dragon. Quickly, the Emperor tapped on the shoulder of a guard standing besides the door and whispered something into their ear, smirking before giving them a quick pat on the shoulder and throwing his chamber doors open. Kurapika followed suit quizzically as he watched the guard speed off down the hall. Once they made it into the room, Chrollo turned to face Kurapika with his hand on his hips.</p><p>“I asked them to bring our food up as opposed to spending supper downstairs in the main hall. I think you’d find it quite boring. Just the two of us, in a large dining hall, surrounded by guards.” Kurapika’s nose scrunched up instinctively at the thought and Chrollo laughed. “That’s what I thought. Come, take a seat,” he gestured at two lounge chairs next to his large bay-style window that overlooked the palace garden, a long ways down.</p><p>Kurapika picked up his robes and swished them to the side, sitting down on the seat gracefully. Chrollo waited by the door until a maid came into view, holding a tray of food and a bottle of a clear liquid. With a nod of thanks, Chrollo took them from the maid and set two glasses down onto the table between the two lounge chairs before flopping down into his own, huffing tiredly.</p><p>“Baiju,” he clarified finally, nodding his head at the bottle. “Specially brewed drink that I've had chilling for quite a while now. I figured, <em>what better time to crack it out than my wedding night</em><em>?</em>” With a flourish, a sharp silver blade materialized from Chrollo’s interior robe pocket that he used to knock the lid of the bottle clean off. Kurapika watched as the liquid steamed over from the action before settling enough to pour, the drink sloshing into his cup with a small sizzle. Between them, there was a plate of figs and numerous cheeses, presumably the fancy kind that Kurapika usually avoided purchasing back when his wallet hadn’t been expendable.</p><p>Despite the wondrous spread, Kurapika found himself reaching for his glass of bajiu, gulping down the spirit with a tilt of his head. Chrollo watched with faint amusement as he popped a fig into his mouth, regarding Kurapika with raised jet-black eyebrows.</p><p>“Speaking of wedding night…” he drawled sleazily, reaching a hand up to trail circles along Kurapika’s thigh. “You <em>are</em> aware of the things people normally do on theirs? And don’t think that just because I am the Emperor, I cannot indulge myself in light pleasures,” he chuckled, swishing his glass around between his fingers. Kurapika looked down at the man, trying to find ways to buy himself at least a little bit of time.</p><p>“I am aware,” Kurapika scowled, flicking Chrollo’s hands off of his lap. “However, there is a time and a place for that. And, seeing as I am in a chair instead of the bed, I will politely refuse whatever advances you may be imposing on me.” With a sniff, he took another burning sip of his drink and watched as Chrollo’s expression contorted to something dangerous.</p><p>“Mmm. So much as I like your rebellious nature, this is taking things a bit far. It would appear that you don’t fully grasp the situation at hand. I am the Emperor. Your <em>husband</em>. And you must do what I say.” Kurapika’s eyes widened and he felt immediately queasy, setting down his glass with cold hands. Chrollo’s fake lovesick exterior was slowly being chipped away to reveal his true, controlling personality. And as much as he hated to admit, Kurapika was powerless to do anything but stand up and make his way over to the bed, all powder-white sheets and dark satin pillows.</p><p>He sat on the edge of the bed in silence, the reality of his situation hitting Kurapika in the face at full force as Chrollo came to kneel before him, slowly tugging off his shoes by the backs, snagging his finger down the slope of Kurapika’s foot. He held his breath and tried to control his breathing as Chrollo looked up at him, feeling a panic attack coming on. His hands bunched into the sheets, gripping them tightly as Chrollo stood up to move on to his overcoat, untying the sash and letting the fabric fall around him. Kurapika was left in only a shirt and his long skirt, barefoot and pissed off. Still, he held onto his temper while his mind pulled blanks as to what he should do next. If Chrollo reached for his shirt, it was likely that he would finally realize that Kurapika was not quite the woman he had been expecting.</p><p>Kurapika realized quickly that he was down to his last resort, and so with shaking hands, he clasped Chrollo’s wrist and tugged him down onto the bed next to him. Chrollo startled and fell backward onto the mattress, watching in surprise as Kurapika crawled on top of his chest to straddle his waist.</p><p>“Well, well,” Chrollo murmured, leaning up to grab onto Kurapika’s chin and tug him down so that they were practically touching noses. And, despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to resist, Kurapika let him. Their lips brushed lightly.</p><p>“I do believe you once said you liked it when I took initiative,” Kurapika said, letting a harsh edge seep into his voice. The attitude seemed to egg Chrollo on underneath him as Kurapika moved to hike his leg up Chrollo’s side. If the Emperor had been paying more attention, he would have noticed the flash of silver that glinted on Kurapika’s lower thigh, attached to a leather strap that had been hidden by his long skirt. Kurapika leaned forward and let his hair fall into Chrollo’s face, obscuring the man’s view as he slid his other hand into the band, extracting the knife smoothly and soundlessly.</p><p>“I do,” Chrollo said breathlessly, bringing his hand to tangle into Kurapika’s locks. It would appear that his “lovesick” front was not all an act, after all. Kurapika almost chuckled to himself. <em>Men were too easy.</em></p><p>“That’s great,” Kurapika smirked, showing teeth. Chrollo would soon learn that his face was one worth fearing as much as it was worth admiring. Kurapika traced his hand up Chrollo’s exposed throat and bathed in the way the man stiffened underneath him as Chrollo felt the slightest pinch of his blade prick his jugular. “Now, I’m going to need you to behave and answer me a question.”</p><p>Realizing the turn of events, Chrollo began to struggle underneath Kurapika’s hold. In response, Kurapika pushed the knife into the man’s throat, hard enough to draw a thin trail of blood that trickled down his chest, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.</p><p>“Don’t make this hard for the both of us,” Kurapika whispered sweetly, wiping away the tears that began to form at the corners of Chrollo’s eyes from the pressure on his windpipe. “Tell me. <em>What is the lead that you received, on the subject of the jade sword?</em> Where are you going, and who are you going to meet on this voyage of yours?”</p><p>The Emperor’s eyes widened and he brought a careful hand up to his breast pocket, patting around furiously before realization dawned on him. Kurapika cocked his head, blinking down at Chrollo.</p><p>“Finally you're aware of your mistake. Too bad you can’t defend yourself from me, because your blade is over there on the coffee table,” he gestured somewhere over his shoulder. “It would appear as though you have no other option than to tell me everything you know.”</p><p>The Emperor’s eyes swept around the room before he finally gave up, tilting his head back and giving Kurapika even more access to his neck. “Alright,” he said. “Well played.” Even more unsettling, Chrollo startled to chuckle darkly, laughter turning into dry coughs when Kurapika pressed even harder.</p><p>“I won’t mind telling my dear <em>wife</em> about the jade sword as long she promises to be a good little maiden and let go of me once she gets the information she needs. We can sweep this under the rug and forget about it afterwards. How does that sound, sweetheart?” Chrollo bargained, voice scratchy. There was the slightest hint of pleading in his tone.</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” Kurapika murmured before grabbing Chrollo’s hair and tugging. “Now <em>talk</em>. You’re wasting my time.”</p><p>Chrollo strained his neck to look into Kurapika’s eyes. “The creator of the jade sword is a man who goes by the name of Nobunaga. He used to be a fierce samurai, but later on in his life he retired himself to slaving over his craft in a small workshop located in Shanghai.” Chrollo gasped after talking so quickly. “That is all of the information of which I have been provided.”</p><p>Kurapika narrowed his eyes. “And who was the source? Can I truly believe what you are saying?”</p><p>“Perhaps not, but what else do you have to go on? Besides, if you ask any of my servants, they will tell you that I have a boat waiting in the dock made specially to navigate through the choppy waters leading to Shanghai. I assure you I am telling the truth,” Chrollo let his head fall back. “As for the source, I am afraid I cannot disclose that information, no matter how much you torture me. Feel free to try to force it out of me all you like.”</p><p>Kurapika was tempted, but he knew that the Emperor didn’t make promises easily. And, judging by his smug expression, he figured Kurapika wouldn’t really go the extra mile and torture him just for fun. Instead, Kurapika just leaned back on his heels, still keeping Chrollo pinned down under his thighs.</p><p>“Well? Is the information satisfactory? Will you let me go?” Chrollo stroked Kurapika’s wrists with slender fingers, batting low-set eyes. “Please, love?”</p><p>Kurapika smiled innocently and patted Chrollo’s cheek. “My sweet husband,” he said, sarcasm practically dripping through his voice. “Much as I would like to, I’m afraid your past actions are just purely unforgivable.” Chrollo’s face lit up in horror, starting to feel increasingly wary.</p><p>“And what could I have possibly done to you? I’ve been nothing but generous these past couple of months. I extended my hand in marriage down to you, to pull you out of the shithole that you called a home. I offered you a new<em> life</em>,” Chrollo spat, face contorting.</p><p>Kurapika’s perfectly contained mask began to crack, feeling the anger seeping out of the edges, dousing him in a fiery heat like a welcome shadow. “You <em>ruined</em> my life,” Kurapika seethed, dropping his flirtatious expression. “Does the Kurtan massacre ring any bells for you? Perhaps any faces you’d remember? Any names?”</p><p>Chrollo’s face darkened. “I haven’t a clue what it is you speak of.”</p><p>Kurapika giggled, a sharp, menacing sound blown through his clenched teeth.</p><p>“Of course you don’t. Killing people without even a second thought. Imagine my surprise when I came home to my clan atop Wudang Mountain to find everyone lying in a pool of their own dried blood, staining the grass and attracting nothing but flies. Ah, do you remember now?’ Kurapika smiled somewhat manically as Chrollo stiffened at the name of the mountain.</p><p>“As I had been climbing up the steps, something that took me days upon days and quite a couple of rests, I had thought to myself that it was odd that there were two pairs of muddy footprints trailing up the steps, as well as two more going down. But I had brushed it off, figuring the prints must have been old, or maybe someone else had come down after me. But once I reached the top to see my entire tribe pillaged and wiped out, ransacked and disemboweled and dead, I wound myself into a blind rage. I couldn’t feel a thing except for my pulsing anger, overflowing and consuming.”</p><p>“And when I investigated, searching for anything that could give me a clue on who did this horrible thing, I found a gold pin, clutched loosely in my deceased mother’s hand as though she had grabbed it off of someone during a fight. I picked it up and observed the build, seeing that it was made of pure gold. And carved on it was the same symbol emblazoned on the back of your robes, on the door to the palace, on the wheels of your carriage.”</p><p>“After I took upon the grueling task of burying my one hundred and twenty-seven dead clan members with my bare hands and this knife,” Kurapika flipped it over from where it was resting on Chrollo’s neck, catching the light dangerously, “I set my back on the place of my birth, pushing the pin out of my memory and deciding to let my clan rest for good. But two things have bugged me ever since then, and I think about them every single day.”</p><p>“The first <em>interesting</em> discovery that I made was that my kind, caring younger brother was not found amongst the corpses I had buried. Whether I felt relieved or terrified by this, I was not sure,” Kurapika grimaced. “I also do not know why I am sharing this personal piece of information with you. Maybe you will bring it to hell with you and live in an endless cycle of guilt for what you did to my clan and my brother.” Kurapika shook his head, clearing it after having laid all of his memories out on the table in front of Chrollo.</p><p>“And the second thing that I’ve yet to uncover,” he leaned in, hissing his next words through clenched teeth. “<em>You and who?</em>”</p><p>Chrollo shook his head roughly. “I’m unsure what you intend to ask me,” he snarled.</p><p>“Don’t play coy,” Kurapika said. “Who was with you when you killed my clan? I advise that you think long and hard before you answer this question. Be aware that I am in a <em>foul</em> mood tonight.”</p><p>The Emperor simply lay there and bit his lip harshly, until pearls of red began to seep down his chin. “I refuse to tell you.”</p><p>“If that is your choice,” Kurapika said finally and licked at the blood that formed on Chrollo’s lips before raising his pale hand up, placed horizontally against Chrollo’s exposed neck.</p><p>“This is revenge for Pairo, whatever horrible things you may have done to him,” Kurapika said in a dead tone before swiping the blade in one quick motion. Chrollo’s body fell back onto the sheets from where he had been struggling before a dark line of crimson began bubbling up and spilling out onto the white silk. Kurapika crawled off the bed in disgust, not wanting to stare into the Emperor’s cold, unseeing eyes.</p><p>He could not understand how one would be able to enjoy the act of taking someone else’s life. Kurapika felt sick to his stomach as he wiped the knife unceremoniously on a pillow, before giving up and laying it beside Chrollo’s head. The mattress was staining rapidly, and even when Kurapika closed his eyes, he could hear the soft trickling of blood hitting the floor in small droplets.</p><p>Feeling completely unsatisfied and disgusted in himself, Kurapika sat on the lounge chair next to the window and thought out his plan. Since the window was open, anyone could have seen him kill the Emperor, despite the palace being so high up in the air. A guard positioned outside the room could have heard them, even thought they’d been talking quietly for the most part. Kurapika deemed it unsafe to stay in the room for any longer than he’d already spent.</p><p>He leaned down to shear his skirt, made of decently thin, pleated material that was easy enough to cut through with Chrollo’s blade that he’d used to pop open their bottle of Baiju. He cut it down to just below his knees, a length that was completely unheard of amongst proper women and considered whorish, but Kurapika could care less. He’d just killed the Emperor in cold blood. The least of his problems were his fashion choices.</p><p>The overcoat that he’d been wearing to the wedding ceremony was much too long and heavy for him to wear, not to mention opulent, so Kurapika decided to just keep on the undershirt for the moment. The tight material crisscrossed in the back, showing a window of skin, but clung to his figure well enough to keep him warm until he could steal a shawl from a booth in the market somewhere.</p><p>Though he was unarmed and underdressed, Kurapika couldn’t stand the thought of staying a moment longer in the palace and so he hauled open the window right above the overhang as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert any guards. He was still in his practical shoes and thanked the lords for his decision to not bind his feet for the parade. It made all the difference as he climbed the ledge of the window all the way to the tiled roof, made specially to ensure that people wouldn’t be able to enter the palace easily.</p><p>In a stroke of good luck, that was the opposite of his intentions, so Kurapika slid down the sloping roof, letting it carry him to an extended tree branch which he shimmied across before dropping down onto the other side of the high stone fence surrounding the palace. He broke off into a wild sprint with his heart beating hard in his chest, using the dark to his advantage as it took the guards a minute to realize that someone was escaping the palace.</p><p>Unfortunately for them, Kurapika was well practiced in quick escapes when he used to steal food from marketers in his earlier days of living on the streets. The last thing that the guards saw as Kurapika left them in the dust, weaving through the trunks of deflowered cherry blossoms, was a flash of pale hair and a back tattoo of a majestic dragon caught in the sharp talons of a rat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We finally meet Leorio. CW for Tonpa :((</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Bào Jī is actually a fictional card game that I based loosely off of crazy eights and cheat. The name translates (loosely) to crit, as in "critical thinking". If the spelling doesn't make sense in mandarin, blame google translate. </p><p>Also, the next chapter will be up around March 20th! Get ready for the appearance of Gon, Killua and Bisky.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Fourth day of New Year’s Eve, in Beijing’s slums</em>
</p><p> </p><p>To Kurapika, the glass-littered streets crunching under his feet felt a lot more like home than the Emperor’s palace ever had. He was able to experience the changing of the sky, shifting from night to day, being able to watch the parting of the clouds and the foggy haze set about the gravel as he stumbled onward, never taking time to relent, the sun hanging in the sky being his only guide.</p><p>He had long since stolen a lightweight cloak from a vendor’s table in passing, letting the emerald green fabric flow behind him like a ghost trailing his heels. The soles of his flats were wearing down quickly from the rough terrain that he subjected them to, day in and day out. Still, Kurapika pushed himself to take as little breaks as he could, acutely aware that everything he set behind him was danger, and that there was no good to come from stopping.</p><p>So dangerous were the guards behind him, in fact, that Kurapika decided to fight the uncertainty with even more peril. Soon, his surroundings resembled less like the bustling marketspace he was so personally acquainted with and more like veritable, bonafide slums. The colors of the walls around him were changing from lively colors of the rainbow, all pink and orange clays, to charcoal grey stone stained with dirt and mud.</p><p>The residents of the district practically blended in with the backdrop. Most were huddled together in small tents made of cardboards and sheets of metal, others standing alone against the wall, their eyes standing stark against their grime-covered complexions. Kurapika felt immediately singled out and made sure to stay away from the loners. Whilst in nature animals that travelled in packs were the largest threat, people who were able to survive an independent life in the slums were most certainly to be feared and avoided. Kurapika merely flicked his hood up and continued along his way.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was his fifth day on the run when Kurapika decided to permit himself the smallest of breaks. He dropped into a long-abandoned tavern, about the size of his old shack, maybe even smaller. It appeared as though the days of selling food and drinks to wealthy customers were long gone, as Kurapika further inspected the place, and pushed his way through what looked like an old, worn shower curtain protecting the entrance from harsh weather.</p><p>Immediately, five sets of eyes snapped up to meet him and stare with bloodshot glares. Kurapika noted that all of the men seemed to be playing a sort of gambling game; it was likely that they were the more wealthy type of slum-goers, dealing hands of grubby parchment with small scrawls on them. Pooled in front of the men, in the middle of the floor they were hunched over, was a large stack of various items, containing a pocket watch, a switchblade, a large brass thumb ring; a generously large cigar, a pouch of gold coins. All priceless items that any crook or bandit with empty pockets would give an arm and leg for.</p><p>Kurapika’s eyes were immediately drawn to the switchblade, laying innocently on a felt pouch next to someone’s grubby boot. He was well aware of the risky game he was playing, running about without a weapon. Kurapika felt foolish enough to have bypassed taking the Emperor’s blade along with him when he had fled, but the idea had slipped his mind in the moment. More accurately, it made him sick to think about needing to rely on anything from Chrollo. Perhaps, though he wouldn’t admit to the idea, it was his pride that was messing with his judgement.</p><p>One of the men noticed his gaze flickering over the pile of goods spread out in front of them and bared his teeth in what came across as a grimace as well as a smile. Kurapika was once again made aware of how he was dressed and his appearances overall; he was fairly confident in his own fighting capabilities, but taking on five men unarmed with hardly any room for escape was a recipe for disaster.</p><p>“Aye darlin’, whatcha lookin’ for over’ere?” A raspy tone spat out. The speaker had significant gaps in his teeth, likely blackened out or rotted. Kurapika would guess that he was the one pooling the cigar, judging by the hefty waft of smoke that came out of his mouth as he slurred his words. Kurapika heard a whistle coming from somewhere and tried not to be ruffled as the group erupted into hacking laughs, reeking of the scent Kurapika tended to steer clear from when he was alone at night.</p><p>“The lass’ eyein’ your blade up, Leorio,” a second voice threw in, nodding at Kurapika’s eyes which abashedly flitted up from the weapon. The man, which Kurapika could only assume was Leorio, raised his wiry eyeglasses, and patted the floor in front of him.</p><p>“Well, men, why don’t we let her join in the fun? I’ll bet the lady has a couple of nice items to add to the pot,” he stated. Kurapika had to do a double-take. Unlike his companions, Leorio’s voice was very heavily accented, though a lot more articulate. Kurapika immediately thought of the farming district back home, right at the foot of Wudang mountain, where all of the farmers used to shout out to him in cheery tones similar to that of the man sitting in front of him. He felt his heart melt the slightest bit, feeling more comfortable around someone who reminded himself of home.</p><p>He padded over to the small ring of men and sat directly in front of Leorio, sitting back on his heels properly in a strategic stance. If need be, he would be able to get up and bolt for the door at the drop of a dime whilst the other men would waste precious seconds pushing themselves up from where they were sprawled out on the ground. Kurapika wasn’t completely threatened by the likes of them, some larger and rotund while others were twig-like in build.</p><p>Nevertheless, he kept his guard up. “I will admit to having an eye on your knife,” Kurapika said pointedly to Leorio, who’s eyebrows raised slightly at his formal tone, “and I am willing to stake anything on it. If there are any items on my person that strike your fancy, shout them out,” Kurapika said and raised his arms in front of himself, lifting his sleeves and revealing the layers of bangles, tying his hair back to display the large studs dangling from his earlobes. A low murmur broke out through the shack at the reveal of his wealth.</p><p>“Enough jewels on ‘er to feed my girl for a year,” someone pointed out, looking Kurapika up and down. Kurapika could feel his hackles rise as the men began to look at him as they would observe a plump cow being sent to the market. Kurapika dropped his hair and took up a protective stance.</p><p>“Guys, settle down,” Leorio warned before running his hand through his own messy hair, spiked and held back with a red bandana. It was clear that the men in the group had at least enough respect for him to quiet down to a hush, settling back into their spots on the floor. “I’m interested in gambling with her,” he admitted with a little chuckle. “She has some nerve to walk into a den of bastards like us all on her own.” Hollers immediately took over the silence, causing a roar so loud it made Kurapika’s ears ring and he could feel himself flinch.</p><p>Leorio leaned forward on his palms amid the commotion. “Aye, lady, do you think you could show me that pretty thing you have hanging around your neck? I think it’s caught my eye the most amongst the jewelry you’re wearing. Simple, yet elegant. Bet it’d fetch me a hefty price,” he said with a grin.</p><p>Kurapika suppressed the rising feelings of dread that were edging up his throat and lodging themselves there as he reached back to unclasp the necklace he was wearing. He had been so sure that they would overlook it and opt for one of the flashier pieces he had on, but it seemed like his plans were foiled. Kurapika bit his lip and surrendered it over, placing it in front of himself with a scowl. </p><p>“There,” he said. Leorio picked it up between two fingers and inspected it with one eye shut, squinting. Finally, he relinquished it and dropped it back down next to Kurapika’s knees.</p><p>“Looks genuine,” he said with a wink. “I’m all in. Missus, d’you know how to play <em>Bào Jī*</em>?” Leorio gestured at the <em>pái</em>, the pieces of parchment set up in two neat rows in front of them. All of the cards were facedown, the dirty creases worn down from use and age.</p><p>Kurapika shook his head once and settled on the backs of his feet, planting his hands in front of himself. “I am not very well educated in street gambling,” he said evenly. Leorio’s grin grew even wider.</p><p>“Eh? You’ve never even played before? I hope you’re aware of the risk you're about to take.” Kurapika didn’t answer, tying his hair back out of his face with a piece of fabric he had fashioned into a sort of headband in silence.</p><p>“Whatever. I’ll give you the quick run-down,” Leorio said. “There are twenty-eight parchment cards, fourteen on each side in a line. When I tap the ground with my hands, the game will begin. First, you will reach over and pick up any card of mine and slide it to the center, on your left side. I will do the same. Then, when I tap the ground again, we will bring the cards up to our chests to inspect them and hide the contents of the cards from the other person.”</p><p>“We will then announce the number inscribed on the card. The thing is, you are allowed to lie and say whatever number you would like, fitting in the twenty-eight card span. Whoever has the smallest number out of the two cards has to take both of the cards and add them to their lineup. If we suspect the other of bluffing, call it out. If you correctly detect the bluff, then the other person has to take both cards. The point of the game is to lose all of your cards as soon as possible.”</p><p>Leorio looked up from under his glasses and scrutinized Kurapika. “You look like you're dying to ask me something,” he said with the corner of his mouth curling upwards. “I’ll bet you know what the extra rule to the game is. You strike me as a knowledgeable person.”</p><p>Kurapika held Leorio’s gaze. “The more you talked about it, the more familiar this game sounded. I believe that the rule that you have omitted to mention was that one particular card, the one with the number fourteen on it, was considered a special type of card. Was that overlooked in the creation of the game?” Leorio met him with a chuckle.</p><p>“I knew it. No, the fourteenth card possesses a type of overruling power. If you think the other person is holding that card in their hand, you can call it out. If you guess right, the game is over and you win immediately. However, if you guess wrong, you have to pick up seven of the other person’s cards, rendering it useless to continuously call out that card. But, once the fourteenth card is picked up, it is cast aside if not called out immediately afterward.”</p><p>Kurapika nodded again, letting the information settle in his head. Critical thinking was definitely his forte, amplified tenfold under immense pressure or a situation of urgency. However, Leorio hardly gave him the time to act as he passed the stack of paper over to one of his friends, crowding around the two of them excitedly. Kurapika raised his hand up in a quick gesture, preventing Leorio from handing over the stack.</p><p>“Might I examine the cards?” he asked cautiously. “No offense, but I would take much more comfort in knowing that the cards have not been tampered with.”</p><p>Leorio passed them over, giving Kurapika ample time to let his gaze fall onto the man’s hands. They were fairly large, with slender fingers. No sight of adornments or rings that might hint at being in a marriage. What must have looked like a casual gesture was actually Kurapika’s way of subtly analyzing and digging for information on the men he was around. Call him uptight, but Kurapika was always uneasy around strangers, for good reason. In a neighborhood such as the one he was in at the moment, he chastised himself for taking up such a risky bargain.</p><p>He drew himself in and sat a little bit higher on knees, straightening his back as he flipped the cards over in search for any marks that would be indications at what kind of numbers were on them. After a couple of minutes, he deemed them untampered with and handed them back to Leorio.</p><p>“Your apprehension is understandable. My friend over here will shuffle the cards so that we will not be able to cheat, and then we shall begin.” Soon, the shuffling of the cards was the only sound in the room, the men around them watching raptly as an exciting new bargain took place in their otherwise desolate and dreary rundown tavern.</p><p>Finally the cards were dealt out, one by one, in twin rows of fourteen cards just as Leorio had mentioned. But, before Kurapika could let the game commence, there was one more thing bugging him.</p><p>“Excuse me,” he said as Leorio reached for one of his cards. The man looked up with a quizzical expression and retracted his hand quickly, resting them on his knees.</p><p>“What’s up? Want to back out yet?” Leorio asked him playfully. Kurapika rolled his eyes.</p><p>“No. I just wanted to ask if the gentleman on my right could sit next to you instead,” Kurapika said. Leorio’s eyes flitted from Kurapika’s to his friend’s.</p><p>“Why?” Leorio asked slowly before his tone dissolved into something somewhat more teasing. “Is it because he smells? Rest assured, that would go for anyone in this room.”</p><p>Kurapika started to get annoyed and shuffled in his spot. “I want him to sit in front of me so that it will be impossible for you to cheat. He was the shuffler, after all. You two could easily communicate behind my back without me knowing.” Kurapika shifted around to gaze at the other two men who were seated around him somewhat sheepishly and glared at them.</p><p>“Same goes for you two. I will not participate in this game unless every man in this tavern is somewhere behind Leorio.” Kurapika pursed his lips and stared into Leorio’s dark brown eyes. “Do we have an agreement?”</p><p>Leorio took a deep breath before finally giving his friends a sharp tilt of his head. “You heard the lady. Come on and sit behind me.'' The men went to protest but Leorio shut them up with a tap of a finger to his chin. Kurapika watched with satisfaction as he levelled out the playing field, ensuring that Leorio wouldn’t be able to beat him by relying on cheap tricks. Now the game would truly honor its name.</p><p>Kurapika looked down at the line of parchment cards sitting in a line in front of him before Leorio gave the starting signal, bringing both of his hands down to the floor with a cold slap. Kurapika reached for the card sitting at Leorio’s foot while Leorio picked one that was all the way at the end of his line. They pulled back and glanced downwards at their cards, the men crowding behind Leorio to see what number he got before anxiously looking up at Kurapika, as though they could somehow read his number through the paper. Which, he had checked by holding the paper up to the light and observing it earlier, was impossible.</p><p>Nestled between his palms was a card bearing the number three. Now came the challenging part, that required equal amounts of wit and calculation: he had to choose whether to bluff or not. However, seeing as they were far too early in the game Kurapika figured it wouldn’t do him much good to lie. “Three,” he declared.</p><p>“Ten,” Leorio threw out, challenging Kurapika with his eyes. The blonde evaluated the situation and decided against calling Leorio out. His own card was so low that it was likely that Leorio didn’t have either a one or a two.</p><p>He kept his mouth shut and flipped his card around, revealing the number. Leorio did the same, his own piece of parchment emblazoned with a ten. Leorio smiled as Kurapika picked up both cards and set them face-down at the end of his line.</p><p>“Beginners luck,” Kurapika quipped as he reached for the next card in Leorio’s line. The man sputtered somewhere close to his ear as they both leaned over to the other’s side on the ground.</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked indignantly, clearly ruffled at Kurapika’s cockiness. Kurapika glanced down at the new card in his hand without letting any emotion show on his face.</p><p>“Just a hunch that this is your first time playing the game <em>properly</em>,” he said cooly as the blood rushed to Leorio’s face, making his lightly tan face splotch with color.</p><p>“You’re quick to make assumptions. Twenty-one.” Leorio spat out. Kurapika’s eyebrows raised as he assessed the situation.</p><p>He was holding the twentieth card, which was valuable seeing as it was a high number. At the same time, he didn’t want to have to pick up another unnecessary card and give Leorio the reigning lead. Plus, Leorio was likely bluffing seeing as his hands were shaking lightly. From anger or from nervousness, though, Kurapika could not tell.</p><p>“Twenty. I call bluff.” Kurapika raised his eyes behind his card. Leorio chuckled and tilted his head forward, dropping his card in front of his lap face-up.</p><p>“Not a bluff. Looks like I’m running on more than just luck.” Kurapika scowled and reached over to pick up another card from Leorio’s pile, adding to his ever-growing one.</p><p>They kept at the constant fast-paced banter, switching cards over and passing them back and forth. About fifteen minutes into the game, Kurapika noticed the slightest bit of change in Leorio’s demeanor.</p><p>The man had reached over to pluck one of Kurapika’s cards between his fingers, only to turn it over and blink down at the parchment. Unlike the other cards, where he would smile the slightest bit, his mouth stayed in a purposeful straight line. His eyebrows drew in the slightest bit as though he was holding his emotions in tight. Kurapika eyed him up with light amusement, turning ideas over in his head. Leorio did not have the best poker face.</p><p>Based on the calculations that he’d been doing throughout the game, where the critical thinking really started to kick in, the fourteenth card had yet to make an appearance. Kurapika had also memorized all of the cards that were added to his pile, as well as the ones that Leorio had in his. Out of all of their cards, there were only six that had been left uncovered. Therefore, the fourteenth card had a six in twenty-four chance of being in Leorio’s hand at the very moment.</p><p>If Kurapika’s suspicions were proven true, that would give him a large advantage seeing as the fourteenth card could only be played once. Meaning, he could win the entire game with one guess right here and now. At the same time, if Leorio’s physical reaction was a bluff, Kurapika would have to pick up seven cards and completely ruin  his chances at keeping Cheadle’s necklace and winning the knife. Needless to say, the stakes were high for him.</p><p>Kurapika looked at Leorio one more time, taking in his doe-like eyes, framed with long lashes and dark eyebrows. He observed his posture, the way the man seemed to fidget, the numerous ways that Leorio reminded Kurapika of his home. It was then in his mind that he decided, shrewd as Leorio might be, he was an honest man at heart. And Kurapika was willing to bet on that.</p><p>“Sixteen,” Leorio called out quickly. His voice wasn’t shaking, neither were his hands. Kurapika recognized the number as being one of the six yet to be called, which made the decision a little bit trickier. Either Leorio was telling the truth, or he was able to keep up with Kurapika’s advanced memorization skills. His mind threw itself into a well of sudden doubt, not wanting to be the one to gamble away the necklace that meant so much to him.</p><p>“Eight,” he declared, while toying with the corners of his card. Leorio went to flip his own card over before Kurapika interjected quickly. “And I call bluff. You have the fourteenth card in your hand.”</p><p>Leorio’s eyes widened completely as the men crowded around him straightened up and started erupting into confused hollers. Leorio’s mouth gaped open in confused silence for a moment before he chuckled, gobsmacked, and flipped his card over. The little character for fourteen adorned the piece of parchment.</p><p>“Are you some kind of seer?” Leorio asked him quizzically. “Did you cheat? I was sure I was going to win!” He slammed his fist down in a huff. Kurapika regarded him with cold eyes and flipped his own card over with nimble fingers.</p><p>“I am not a seer. I sensed a disrupt in your energy, if you will. For the most part, my guess was merely a gamble,” Kurapika said.</p><p>“Still, the odds of that are insane,” Leorio argued. “Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” Kurapika bristled at his question.</p><p>“And how could I have cheated?” he snapped back. Leorio looked around the room and shrugged. “Then keep your false accusations to yourself. And I believe I’ve won myself that pocketknife of yours.”</p><p>Leorio grumbled under his breath but eventually surrendered the pocketknife over to Kurapika. He tested the latch, flipping it open and shut before storing it safely in his utility belt. Then, Kurapika picked up his necklace and draped it back over his neck, enjoying the feeling of comfort that the heavy stone resting on his chest brought him.</p><p>“Thank you for the game,” he said as he pushed himself up from the ground and made his way over to the entrance of the small building. The men in the room murmured it back to him, still a little confused as to the events that had just occurred. Leorio, on the other hand, avoided looking at Kurapika completely and gazed down at his empty hands. Kurapika gave Leorio one last, long look before pushing past the curtain and going back outside to brave further miles of the long stretch ahead of him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Soon, the dirtied roads started to look more colorful and vibrant. Kurapika eventually made his way into a farming district, where he saw his first stretch of grass in over a week of being on the run. Chinese New Year decorations were starting to come down, in preparation for the final celebration of the lunar new year, the lantern festival that Kurapika had so enjoyed as a kid.</p><p>The Kurtas up on their mountain had never celebrated the New Year like the Chinese had; instead, they would host small parties inviting family friends for a larger feast, perhaps a bit of goat meat instead of the chicken that they normally ate, maybe making a salad with less careful handfuls of salt and splashes of spices. Kurapika had never grown up with the New year traditions that the Chinese children had until he ventured down the mountain for his first time, getting to experience what the new lunar year really meant to the citizens of Beijing.</p><p>There was only one time each year that Kurapika would feel connected to the people who lived at the foot of the mountain, and that was the fifteenth day of the New Year, the lantern festival. Of course, growing up, Kurapika had never known the name of the celebration. One night, when he was stumbling about in the dark, climbing up the mountain in an attempt to find where the water from the stream really came from, Kurapika looked down from his perch high up at the top of the mountain and looked down carelessly.</p><p>There, floating around the mountain and all over the district, beautiful red lanterns lit up from the inside seemed to be dancing in intricate patterns. They didn’t ever float up to the Kurta’s village, the clan being too far up in the sky, but for the first time in his life Kurapika was able to look down at the district below him and make out the tiniest little smudges of humans, to see them releasing these beautiful paper creations into the night sky, lighting it up like crimson fireflies. Kurapika felt his heart swell at the discovery and went back down to his home after the celebrations as over feeling as though he was walking on a cloud.</p><p>In similar fashion, Kurapika would never forget the year when his mentor, the voyager, had given him a little construction of parchment, folded into an interesting shape. When he had opened up the parchment, expecting it to come apart, Kurapika gasped. In his hands was a miniature lantern, dusty white instead of red, hardly big enough to hold a candle inside of it. He had cradled the thing in his hands, turning it over and observing it with interest all the while his mentor cracked a small smile that went unnoticed by the blonde.</p><p>At his fast pace travelling through the different districts, Kurapika was on track to hit the outskirts of Beijing in less than a day, where the roads and little shops would soon turn into sprawling banks of sand. Already, he was a lot further than he had ever ventured out of his small quarters in central Beijing, but he had extensive knowledge on travel routes in Beijing despite never having taken them himself.</p><p>When he first started living in the market, Kurapika had taken up an interesting hobby of consulting random travellers that passed by his stall every so often. It was always easy for him to pick out who was a foreigner and who wasn’t; normally, travellers would be holding some sort of object to help themselves navigate, or they’d have large backpacks filled with necessities. However, flasks of water weren’t very helpful indicators seeing as Beijing was hot and dry most of the year, and most people who lived there carried them anyway.</p><p>Kurapika had his own flask in his satchel. After he’d fled from the Imperial palace he had swung by a little stall and filled up. The ex-vendor side of him felt bad, knowing that the person he’d stolen from was likely struggling and just trying to make a living. But, at the same time, he had to keep in perspective who was more likely to need the items.</p><p>As he was sprinting about, discreetly stealing items that he thought he might need, Kurapika had caught a quick glance of himself in a stall mirror. As he looked at himself, his blonde hair stuck out like a sore thumb. Kurapika had wondered to himself if he should hack off his hair that currently tickled just below his chin, or maybe dye it with some henna that the Indian vendors sold in little metal bowls. While he was deciding if he should change his appearance, Kurapika remembered something his mother had told him once.</p><p>
  <em>“Your hair is beautiful, Kurapika,” his mom chastised as he complained about how bright it was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But it doesn’t look like any of the other kids’!” He had complained with a small pout. Kurapika had always felt a little isolated from the other clanschildren, feeling like he never fit in. His mother chuckled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They’re just jealous. Don’t worry. You are our blonde, amazing Kurtan child. Never let anyone tell you any differently.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, Kurapika!” Pairo had cut in, barely five years old at the time. “Sometimes, I really wish I could be able to see your blonde hair, just once. From what I’ve heard, it’s quite the wonder.” Kurapika had smiled with a little blush, rolling a strand of his hair between his fingers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well… I guess you might be right.”</em>
</p><p>Kurapika sighed and shook his head, walking away from the mirror. Despite the convenience, he decided against doing anything to his natural hair color. He didn’t think he could bring himself to. Not when Pairo had never even had the chance to see his hair.</p><p>When he thought about his hair going grey, completely losing its blonde vibrance without Pairo ever getting to see it, the notion made his eyes water suspiciously. He hadn’t cried in a long, long time, the feeling of soft tears rolling down the planes of his cheeks. Remembering his surroundings, he willed them to stay in his eyes and continued on, turning his back on the market for good.</p><p>In the outskirts village, Kurapika was starting to wish that he could let go of old memories and just change up his hair, from the looks he kept getting. It was just like the younger kids in his clan all over again, the continuous gawking, the whispers. He was starting to get fed up.</p><p>A couple of vendors tried to call him over to their stall. Kurapika declined, too tired to use his voice, instead just bringing his hand up for a small wave. Evidently the news of the Emperor’s death hadn’t yet spread to the whole of Beijing. Kurapika didn’t even know if the Emperor’s council had decided to disclose the news with the public at all; they had all been informed that the Emperor would be going for a voyage soon, with the large vessel taking up a large portion of space in the community dock.</p><p>It would be a smart move to keep the information a secret for the time being, until the council could come up with a good enough cover as to where the Emperor was. The worst possible outcome of the situation, the one that Kurapika was absolutely <em>dreading</em> for the reason that it was very likely to occur, would be if the council put a bounty on the head of the murderer. Kurapika had no doubts that the prize money would be something ridiculous, and if he had the whole of Beijing on his heels, it was likely that he wouldn’t be able to take a step anywhere without being in danger.</p><p>While he was deep in thought, he let his legs take over the walking as he made his way through the small marketspace, nowhere near as large and busy as the one he used to live in. Suddenly, a loud noise somewhere near his ear startled him and he nearly yelped in panic until he realized it was just the whinnying of a horse. He pivoted in his place as he realized his good fortune, turning to face a short, stumpy man wearing a cyan colored tunic. His face was rather smushed unpleasantly as though he spent his days glowering at passing customers. Regardless, a horse for desert travels would make Kurapika’s life a million times easier.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Kurapika said as he sidled up next to the man who was currently chugging from his hipside canteen, made of leather. Clearly the merchant was rather well-off.</p><p>The potbellied man wiped the back of his hand across his mouth slowly, taking the time to close the canteen’s latch and reattach it to his belt. Finally, he addressed Kurapika’s presence.</p><p>“What is it?” he snapped tiredly. “I’ve had a long day. My feet hurt. I have a headache. And now you feel the need to disturb me. I hate this damn town.” Kurapika was taken aback by the man’s incessant complaining and took a moment to recover from his surprise.</p><p><em>Clearly this merchant won’t be an easy sell,</em> Kurapika thought to himself. <em>However I must not blow this opportunity, for it is imperative that I get this horse. </em></p><p>“I am very sorry to hear that,” Kurapika said and bowed his head down to the shorter man. “I do not wish to take too much of your time. I was merely wondering how much you would sell me that horse for.”</p><p>The man scoffed at his declaration and Kurapika could feel his eye twitch in hardly restrained annoyance. “Ha! This horse is not for sale. Do you know how rare this particular breed is? Plus, she can get me anywhere and I won’t have to set a foot on the ground. If you really felt bad for my poor feet, you would understand where I was coming from. Don’t you?” The merchant pouted fakely, pretending to wipe a tear away from his eye. Meanwhile, Kurapika looked down from his own feet, battered, bloodied and barely covered by his thin shoes to that of the man in front of him, wearing a pair of thick moccasins that looked like heaven. Kurapika bit his lip as hard as he possibly could to avoid punching the ungrateful vendor in his ugly, overlarge nose.</p><p>“Right. Whatever you paid for that horse, I will pay double. Triple, even. I will give you any of my jewels. I will pay you in manual labor. Name the price, and I am at your service.” Kurapika’s hands were shaking at how close he was to his freedom.</p><p>“Woah, woah. At least take me to tea first,” the vendor said. Kurapika scrunched his nose up confusedly. “The name’s Tonpa. I can tell that you really want to get to know me better by the way you're practically throwing yourself at my feet. Ha! I’m such a catch,” he laughed again, reaching for the horse’s saddle.</p><p>As Tonpa climbed up the horse, Kurapika could feel the panic rising quickly in his chest. “No, I don’t think you understand how much I <em>need</em> that horse,” he protested. In response, Tonpa leaned down to reach Kurapika’s level from where he was sitting.</p><p>“And clearly <em>you</em> don’t understand what I mean when I say no. Now go back to your master or whatever. Quit bothering me,” Tonpa said and shooed Kurapika away.</p><p>There wasn’t any time for Kurapika to react, or even for Tonpa to kick the horse into action before a second horse rushed into the small square with urgency. The large beast knocked over a cart holding a pyramid of apples and kicked up on its two back legs before charging straight for Kurapika and Tonpa who were both gaping like deer in headlights.</p><p>Quick as a flash, the rider of the black horse swung by Kurapika and made a grab for his belt that he wore loose on his waist. Kurapika could only watch as the man rode off, holding a shining silver <em>something</em> in his hand, waving it around triumphantly.</p><p>Kurapika whipped his head around to catch a solid glimpse of the rider before he went off at full speed. He was suddenly hit with the feeling of having seen the man before and realized with sudden rage that it was the man who he had crushed in <em>Bào Jī</em>.</p><p>“My knife! You bastard!” Kurapika yelled to Leorio’s receding laughter as he set off. In a split second, Kurapika spun around and gave Tonpa a harsh shove, knocking the man clean off of the horse and onto his ass on the ground. In a fluid, practiced movement of one who had grown up with a horse, Kurapika pushed himself up onto the saddle and took Tonpa’s place at the reigns. “Sorry,” he said unapologetically to the man on the ground before snapping the reins quickly and kicking the sides of the horse, getting the animal to take off in a sprint.</p><p>Leorio turned his head around to glance back at Kurapika after hearing the commotion and startled as he saw the blonde streaking toward him atop a cream-colored mare. He whooped with excitement as Kurapika gave chase to get his weapon back, glowering at Leorio all the while.</p><p>They plowed through tight corners and narrow streets with the loud pounding of hooves on stone, accompanied by the shrieks and hollers of merchants and customers alike. Kurapika could feel his heart pounding in his chest with exhilaration as Leorio skillfully led them through the market.</p><p>With a sudden strike of heat and blinding sun, they broke out of the village into the desert that surrounded Beijing's outskirts for miles on end in seemingly every direction. Kurapika had never been there himself, but he knew of the sandy desert that haunted many a traveler’s worst nightmares. Kurapika knew that if he lost sight of Leorio at any point and was left alone in the desert to fend for himself, he would likely suffer an unpleasant fate of dehydration. With a quick glance downwards, Kurapika noticed that there was no satchel containing water or food attached to the horse. Tonpa had been carrying it on himself.</p><p>To make matters worse, Kurapika was extremely aware that his own satchel of provisions was running desperately low, holding only enough water for two small sips and a couple of morsels of bread. So, unless he turned back to the village, returned the horse to Tonpa and begged for forgiveness, Kurapika was very likely screwed.</p><p>But he would rather die stranded in the desert than to have to grovel and kiss Tonpa’s grimey shoes. So, with a small smile, he leaned forward and let the horse pursue Leorio’s own as they dashed through the slippery dunes that spanned as far as he could see.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“You really won’t give up, will you?” Leorio finally turned around in his seat, a couple hours of chase later. Kurapika glared at him.</p><p>“Nope. You stole the knife from me,” he stated simply. Leorio sighed huffily before leaning down to loosen his hold on the reins, to pat the horse’s mane in a soothing way. On command, Leorio’s horse slowed down to a trot. Without having to order it, Kurapika’s own horse mirrored the actions of the one in front of it.</p><p>Without an explanation, Leorio hopped off of his horse and pocketed the knife in his cargo pants, full of straps and pockets. Kurapika jumped down from where he was sitting with graceful agility and landed in the soft grains of yellow sand.</p><p>“If you're so insistent on getting the knife back, then I guess we have to resort to drastics.” Leorio rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips impatiently, as though it was <em>Kurapika</em> who was causing him stress. Kurapika wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.</p><p>All the while, he wondered, <em>what drastics</em><em>?</em> Because Leorio was the one with the knife and the height advantage, and they were stranded in the desert with no one around to watch Kurapika bleed out onto the sand from a stab wound. All of a sudden, returning to the village and Tonpa seemed like a much smarter idea and Kurapika cursed his foolishly headstrong habits of ignoring the logical side of his brain.</p><p>“If you want it so bad, come and get it,” Leorio declared with a little smirk, patting his pants pocket. Kurapika’s eyebrows shot up in interest at Leorio’s proposition.</p><p>“Alright,” he agreed before pacing around Leorio, trying to get close enough to the man to tackle him and restrict his extremities. Leorio was on his highest defense, leaning forward and extending his arms to protect his body from whatever stunt Kurapika was planning. Kurapika waited a couple of moments longer before making the first move, launching himself at Leorio unceremoniously. Leorio caught hold of his arm as he extended it in an attempt at a punch, posing as a distraction to try to kick Leorio’s leg out from under him. Kurapika wrestled his way out of Leorio’s strong grip and brushed his bangs down from where they’d gotten messed up in the tussle. Leorio beamed down at Kurapika with amusement.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Kurapika growled with frustration. Leorio just shrugged off the blonde’s anger.</p><p>“You bet I am.”</p><p>“How long were you following me for?” Kurapika asked as he jumped to hit Leorio again, who raised his arm just in the nick of time to avoid a heavy blow to his face. They danced about a little bit more, the sand under their feet shifting with every movement.</p><p>Leorio tapped his finger against his chin. “I was kinda pissed that I let you just walk into my place and beat me at my own game. And I didn’t really want to stick around to let my men bash me over the loss. So I got my horse from the stable in a district over - I keep her there because it’s safer, you know. People in the poor district are so desperate that they’d even eat a horse raw. Not recommended,” he chuckled. Kurapika joined in despite himself and pulled his arms back, panting.</p><p>“So you trailed me all the way to this district? That’s dedication,” Kurapika noted. Leorio huffed an exasperated sigh.</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it <em>dedication</em><em>.</em> I was just bored. Plus, I have a place out here so I’m kinda familiar with the area. You didn’t think I’d lead you all the way out into the desert without having a plan to fall back on, did you?” </p><p>Now it was Kurapika’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t particularly strike me as a person who thinks things out before they do them. I’d say that you're more of a carefree man who lives recklessly and follows his heart,” Kurapika said before wondering if he was coming on too strong. “Of course, that is merely an observation. Pardon me for being brash.”</p><p>Leorio laughed a little and made a pass for Kurapika, snapping him out of his fatigue. “You're probably right. I’ve never been one for staying in one place for too long.” Kurapika hummed his response and continued to grapple with Leorio, digging his nails into the man’s hand.</p><p>“I hadn’t been leading the most interesting life, up until maybe a couple of months ago. Most of my life I spent feeling sorry for myself. Now I’ve realized that my reason to live is to survive, just to prove it to this world that wants me dead. So I have no excuses for just,” he took a pause to breathe heavily, <em>“</em><em>giving up.”</em></p><p>Leorio twisted Kurapika’s wrist around, an action that made the shorter man wince in pain. “I don’t have any excuses either. We’re both fighting for our own reasons. It’s just a matter of whose body can hold up the longest under these kinds of circumstances. And I think I have the upperhand.”</p><p>Though Kurapika tried to fend off his feelings of exhaustion, his actions were quickly slowing down under the constant pulsating of the sun overhead. His cloak felt like ten layers of wool weighing down on him heavily as his arms grew sluggish and his mouth felt drier than the sand that surrounded him. But, true to his word, Kurapika kept up the struggle until a tinge of blackness surrounded his vision, spots blinding him until he fell to the ground in an unconscious, overtired heap.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The first thing Kurapika noticed when he tried to sit up was that he <em>couldn’t.</em> His wrists stung with burns as he looked down to see a tightly woven rope binding his arms, legs and midsection. This was his first cause for panic.</p><p>The second was the fact that he had absolutely no clue where he was. Kurapika was able to tell from the sand that littered the floor of what appeared to be a hollowed out cave, made from a ruddy copper-colored clay, that he was still in the desert. If he tried hard enough, he could just barely make out the distant cries of vultures and the dull echoing of the wind rushing through the cave entrance. It was definitely still daytime, because light still trickled into the cave, so much so that he didn’t need a lantern to be able to observe his surroundings.</p><p>Eventually he gave up on struggling and backed himself up to lean against the wall, tied up and irritated. Kurapika had an idea who was behind his capture, based on the pocketknife that was sitting innocently on a rickety wood chair <em>just</em> out of his reach. If only he could kick his leg out and knock it onto the floor, where he could pick it up and slowly work away at the ropes until they came loose.</p><p>His plan was foiled when Leorio stumbled into the cave, having to duck to make his way through the entryway. Leorio’s face lit up in surprise when he saw Kurapika glowering back at him from his spot on the wall. If his head wasn't pounding its way out of his skull, Kurapika would have been cursing the man out as he beamed cheekily down at him. Instead, all he could manage to do was look pissed and scowl.</p><p>“Hey, you're up pretty soon!” Leorio exclaimed before making his way over to Kurapika. The blonde shuffled backwards and bared his teeth.</p><p>“What do you mean by that?” Kurapika squinted his eyes at Leorio, who he had just noticed was holding a clay mortar and pestle set in his hands. Inside the small bowl was a vibrant purple powder, crushed to a fine chalk.</p><p>“You wouldn’t stop thrashing around in your sleep, so I crushed up a little bit of passion flower and valerian. I figured, mixed with your exhaustion, you’d be knocked out until at <em>least</em> tomorrow night.” Kurapika shrugged and tapped his foot.</p><p>“Well, I’m up now, so why don’t you put down the sedatives and untie me?” Kurapika eyed the powder with suspicion, not wanting to be drugged into a sleepy lull once more. His greatest asset was the way he thought himself out of tough situations. Paired with a banging headache, Kurapika’s chances of making a clean escape were on the decline.</p><p>Leorio set the bowl down onto a little jutting rock, flat-surfaced and smooth, with a sigh. He crouched down to sit where Kurapika was and ran his hand through his hair, an action that Kurapika discovered came out whenever he was feeling conflicted.</p><p>“I don’t think that would be wise. Don’t worry, I won’t give you any more medicine, but I’d prefer it if your hands stayed tied. You're definitely a dangerous woman,” Leorio whistled, glancing down at Kurapika who was eyeing him intensely from under his messy bangs that stuck to his forehead in a cold sweat.</p><p>“Before you think about doing anything to me, I’d just like you to know that I’m really a man. Sorry to disappoint,” Kurapika mumbled before bringing his knees up to his chest. Leorio choked on the sip he was taking from his canteen and spluttered.</p><p>“<em>Huh?</em> You're kidding,” Leorio looked Kurapika over even more. “I would have never known. I mean, I noticed your chest was pretty tiny, but…” Leorio laughed as Kurapika tried and failed to reach his arm to smack the grin off of Leorio’s face. “Sorry, sorry. But for real, you're very…” Leorio paused, contemplating. “Pretty.”</p><p>Kurapika reddened. “Pretty?” Leorio nodded. Suddenly, Kurapika felt very exposed. “Thank you,” he murmured before turning away. Leorio did the same, tugging at his shirt collar before standing back. Kurapika’s gaze was drawn back in towards the way Leorio’s soft linen shirt cut off at the sleeves, and the way he could see a long scar cutting down Leorio’s neck to his chest. He ripped his gaze away before it went any further and felt a sudden strike of burning anger at his lack of control.</p><p>Was a handsome kidnapping bandit really all it took to get him to suddenly pine like a schoolgirl? Perhaps he had spent too much time in his teenage years focusing on anything <em>but</em> his love life that finally his brain was rebelling by catching up with everything he had missed. When he was younger, he had always assumed he would marry a nice girl from his clan like his parents wanted him to, to have children with the same blonde hair as himself. Kurapika had always agreed, following his parents orders with a sense of responsibility. He had felt like it was his duty to carry on traditions like how his clan had been doing for ages.</p><p>But once he got older and allowed to think for himself, without <em>legacy</em> and <em>tradition</em> ringing in his mind every time he tried to picture himself marrying someone, Kurapika soon found that love was nothing special to him. He had loved Pairo in an all-consuming, brotherly sense, the kind of love that hurt him and healed him time and time again. Kurapika doubted he would ever find someone who mattered as much to him as Pairo had, and so he never let himself <em>fall in love</em>.</p><p>However, he <em>had</em> found himself developing petty crushes on a handful of men he would see around the market every so often, much to his horror and dismay. He hadn’t ever thought about dating a man until he was truly allowed to experience the outside world and the many wonders that it contained. The first time Kurapika had ever experienced romantic feelings for someone else was when a passing traveller had smiled at him quickly as they touched fingers over Kurapika’s fabric stand. The stranger had dropped a handful of coins into Kurapika’s extended palm and he could just watch in horror as his stomach turned itself in knots at the man’s broad shoulders and attractive eyes.</p><p>At first, Kurapika had been terrified that something was wrong with him. That maybe he had caught a sickness, that perhaps the sun had been getting to him, that he was overtired. But once little instances like these started becoming more and more frequent - the man who worked at the stall down the road, the man who gave him two sweet-bean pastries for the price of one with a wink, the man who had given him a compliment on his sewing skills the day before… Soon, it was all too difficult to write off his feelings as accidents. And so Kurapika came to the conclusion that he liked men feeling like the only person in the world carrying such a heavy secret.</p><p>He never did anything with his self discovery, unsure how other people would react to him. Instead he just pushed any and all emotions to the bottom of his heart, the furthest back in his mind. However, sometimes he would catch an attractive man who’s eyes lingered just a little too long on his, that seemed to drink in all of his appearance with a slack mouth and raised brows. It always left Kurapika feeling flushed and embarrassed and just the slightest bit <em>hopeful</em>, childish as that hope was. He knew that the only reason he was getting the attention from men in the first place was because he looked like a woman.</p><p>And yet… the way Leorio looked at him was unchanging, still charged with the same energy as they had maintained when they’d first met. Kurapika could practically feel Leorio’s heart beat in tandem with his as Leorio tipped his chin up the slightest bit to let Kurapika drink from his canteen, keeping the man hydrated from where he was tied up. Leorio reached up to brush the excess drops of water that formed on Kurapika’s lips with careful fingers, somehow apologetic and soothing with everything he did.</p><p>It took a couple of days, but Leorio finally seemed more comfortable around Kurapika, and vice-versa. He stopped maintaining a calculated distance from the man, and soon they were chatting amicably on the floor of the cave. Leorio would even untie his hands and legs every so often to let Kurapika walk around and stretch, to help him with mixing up plants in that little bowl of his. The only thing that Leorio wouldn’t let Kurapika do was go outside, even for a second.</p><p>One afternoon, when they were lazing about, Kurapika on his back while Leorio sat next to him, Leorio had pushed himself up on one shoulder to face Kurapika. “I’m going to untie your hands permanently, I think.” He chuckled as Kurapika whipped his head up quickly, startled out of his small nap.</p><p>“Please do,” Kurapika said insistently, extending his joined wrists to Leorio. “The rope is starting to cut into my skin.” Leorio adjusted his glasses on his nose and clutched the pocketknife in his right hand as he began to cut at the rope.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Leorio rubbed Kurapika’s wrist soothingly as the rope came undone, falling to the ground with a thud. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just scared you would… I don’t know, kill me in my sleep or something. Which I guess I would kind of deserve, seeing as I was the one who practically dragged you all the way out here and then held you hostage. Damn, when I say it out loud, I really am a fugitive!” Leorio exclaimed. “But. That’s besides the point.  The thing is, I’ve come to trust you, for better or for worse. So I figured it might be time to get rid of the restrictions and let you roam around to your heart’s content. However, all I ask of you is to <em>please</em> not run off.”</p><p>Kurapika wiggled his hands around, enjoying the feeling of movement once more. “And why not?” he asked while pushing himself up from the sandy cave floor. “Are you trying to keep me here for ulterior motives?” Kurapika narrowed his eyes, heavy-lidded with suspicion.</p><p>“No! No,” Leorio insisted. “I’m keeping you here because you still haven’t recovered yet, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you roam around the desert on your own. You don’t know it like I do. You would probably pass out from exhaustion two hours into travelling.”</p><p>He started walking over to the makeshift kitchen, a small copper pot suspended over a stack of wooden planks to be set on fire. Kurapika followed him, giving Leorio a soft nudge in the arm. “And we know whose fault that is, don’t we. Let me remind you who came up with the brilliant idea of fighting for ownership of the pocketknife. Which is mine, by the way.” It was almost ridiculous how quickly the two of them had switched up from fiery rivals to joking about their past arguments. Kurapika didn’t like it one bit.</p><p>(Well. Maybe he did, a little bit. But he wouldn’t admit it.)</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’ve judged you too harshly,” Leorio sighed. “Here’s the knife. I’m trusting you with it. And if you poke my eye out or hack at my leg while I’m cooking rice for us, then I guess that’s on me.” Leorio chuckled before passing the knife into Kurapika’s pale hand. Kurapika looked down in surprise.</p><p>“You're giving it to me this easily? I was partially joking,” Kurapika said skeptically. Leorio huffed before pouring half a cup of rice grains into the pot.</p><p>“If you don’t want it, I’ll gladly take it back.” Kurapika had to smile softly and take a seat next to Leorio, lighting a match to set the base wood alight.</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Kurapika was a painfully early waker, nearly jumping out of his skin at every scuttle and shifting outside of their cave. Across from him, slouched against a backpack and the cave wall, Leorio was fast asleep. Kurapika noticed, with a touch of tenderness, that the only insulated blanket in the cave had been strewn over his body while he had nodded off. He let himself take a couple of extra seconds to admire the sleeping man, his dark eyelashes fanning over tanned, freckled cheeks before snapping himself out of his trance.</p><p>As quietly as he could, Kurapika tiptoed out of the cave to go outside for the first time. True to his theory, the desert was completely tinged in an early-morning haze of blue. Kurapika let his breath knock out of him in a little gasp, admiring the view beneath him as he stood in front of a span of identical dunes going as far as his eye could possibly see. He didn’t have the slightest clue how Leorio was able to navigate through the never ending sea of sand and cacti, prickly plants that he’d never seen back home in central Beijing.</p><p>Once the view became a little too overwhelming, Kurapika shifted his gaze over to the shoddy clothesline that was pinned up between two weatherbeaten plants, all twiggy branches with no leaves or flowers to adorn them. He noted that his second cloak, the one that he had been carrying around in his satchel, was hung up and flapping in the light breeze, giving off the finest smell of the lemony soap that Leorio used to clean their bowls with. Clearly Leorio was used to living out in this cave all alone, completely isolated in the desert. Kurapika couldn’t help but wonder why. Surely there must be a story behind the reasoning for such a life.</p><p>“<em>Hey!</em> What did I tell you about going outside?” Leorio shouted. Kurapika felt his heart drop guiltily as he turned around to face a scowling Leorio standing in the mouth of the cave. </p><p>“Ack. Sorry,” Kurapika apologized before shifting on his feet and taking a seat on the crag ledge, dangling his feet over the edge carelessly. He could hear Leorio grumble behind him but sat down besides him nonetheless. “It’s a lovely view.” Kurapika said, trying to switch the subject of discussion around. “I’ve never been in the desert before now, much less seen the sun rise like this.”</p><p>Leorio kicked his feet in the air. “It gets boring after a while. When you wake up, day after day, and there’s nothing but sand from all areas,” he said simply before waving his hand in the air. “Not to try to dilute the beauty that the desert presents, of course. It just… it gets tiring after a while. You can really start to lose it out here.”</p><p>“I can imagine,” Kurapika quipped. “I would simply go mad after staring out at the sand all day.”</p><p>Leorio scrubbed his hands over his face, yawning loudly. Kurapika felt inclined to do the same. “I ask myself that sometimes. That there must be more to life than just living off the grid. But at the same time, whenever I go to visit my pals in the village, I feel rejuvenated. So I guess I can’t complain too much.”</p><p>Kurapika crossed his arms over his chest, slightly chilly since the sun hadn’t yet risen completely over the dunetops. “Is there a reason why you live out in the desert, anyways? I had been thinking to myself that it's definitely an <em>unorthodox</em> way of wasting away.” Leorio blew a piece of hair out of his eyes, a section of his bangs that was laying loose due to the humidity hanging low in the air.</p><p>“There is, in fact, a reason. Now, whether you want to sit here and listen to me go on about my past is up to you.” He glanced over at Kurapika with warm eyes, leaning back to rest on his arms.</p><p>Kurapika scoffed lightly. “I wouldn’t have asked the question if I wasn’t hoping for a lengthy tale to come out of it. Besides, I think it would do us well to get to know each other a bit more.” Kurapika paused to look out at the sand. “Plus it’s not really like there’s anywhere for me to <em>go</em>.”</p><p>“True,” Leorio agreed before tipping his head back and closing his eyes, willing the memories to come flooding back to him. “Well, if you don’t mind me starting from the very beginning…”</p><p>“I’m sure you've noticed already, but I’m mixed. My dad was Chinese, while my mom was from Afghanistan. I’m not even sure if you’ve heard of the country - it’s a lot further out South-West from Beijing, along the silk road. During the majority of my childhood, we lived in Kabul, the capital.”</p><p>“Anyways, we scraped by like most poor families did. Each day, I would take a new animal from our small farm, normally a chicken or something, and go around the market to hagger with the vendors until I could exchange the chicken for something more valuable to my family. I became quite good at bartering, especially since I started at such a young age. Around,” Leorio stroked his chin in thought, “since I was four, maybe? Earlier? As soon as I was able to walk and talk, my mom threw me onto the streets to start bringing in money. Don’t look at me like that,” Leorio chuckled at Kurapika’s horrified expression. “That was common. My mother was just a little bit too uncaring - if we got hit by a horse cart, she would ask if the produce we had been carrying was okay, bypassing our broken limbs. And of course, only after she inspected the goods would she blow up at us for impairing our ability to run around.”</p><p>“It was just expected of us. Especially with me being the oldest, and the only male child, my mom depended heavily on me. So I kept up with her orders until she grew old and stooped over, until she could barely lift her arm to whack me with her cane anymore. My mom passed when I was around fifteen. Needless to say, I wasn't totally saddened, just a little naive and misguided. I foolishly thought that I would be able to take care of myself and my three younger sisters on my own. I was wrong.”</p><p>“Before she croaked, my mother had arranged three separate husbands for my sisters, each one tripling and even quadrupling them in age. Again, it was expected, but I was disgusted. My youngest sister was eight. It was cruel torture to subject her to spend the rest of her life shackled to a husband who would treat her foully. I had to do something about it.”</p><p>“I only found out about the marriages when the men came knocking at our door, demanding their rights to my sisters. I was taken aback and I had no clue what to do. I was the sole protector of my siblings and I just… I couldn’t let go of them. You might think me to be selfish, but please try to put yourself in my shoes. So, I pretended to fetch them while I actually hurried them out the back. We snuck away with nothing but a pair of sandals each, tripping over fallen wires and broken tiles that littered the back alleys behind our house, leaving the suitors at our front doorstep.”</p><p>“We made it about three streets down before I felt a harsh tugging on the back of my tunic. I finally took a moment to stop and I saw my youngest sister’s wide eyes staring up at me, brimming over with tears. And to this day, the words that she said haunt me. “Why don’t you just let me go back? I <em>want</em> to go back,” she had repeated over and over. The middle child tried to calm her down, surely knowing their fate if they were to turn back. At the same time, my little eight year old sister was breaking my heart. I tried to get her to keep going, but she wouldn’t stop wailing that she’d rather be dead than to defy my mother’s orders. So, in a flash of anger at how my late mother had brainwashed my darling sisters, I yelled at her.”</p><p>“ “Mother’s <em>dead!</em> When will you understand that? I’m trying to save your life,” I repeated, my yells combating her cries. But the tears just kept coming, until I was completely fed up. “You know what, if you want to, just go back. Go back to your husband and never look me in the eyes again.” She made her mind up in an instant and ran away from me, never turning back around to look at me. I felt my heart split even further as my oldest sister joined her. The middle sister, named Hajira, she stayed with me. We continued on.”</p><p>“True to their word, we never saw our sisters again. Hajira and I lived harsh lives on the streets, even more dirt poor than we had been before. We went many days without eating, until Hajira eventually died of malnutrition. Her death crushed me. I didn’t have any reason to keep going anymore and I always carried that guilt along with me.”</p><p>“Right before Hajira had died, she was suffering from severe hallucinations. It was all I could do to hold her helplessly in my lap as she proclaimed that the stars were talking to her, that all she could see was a sea of blinding green, spanning on and on. She took my hands in her own cold ones and told me that I would find true happiness yet, that I couldn’t let her passing take me down. Call it the ramblings of a dreamer on death’s door, but I really took her words to heart. In fact, they are probably the reason why I’m even here right now.”</p><p>Leorio hunched his shoulders forward, leaning on his knees. Kurapika reached out tentatively to pat Leorio on the back,  drawing wide circles to comfort him. Leorio closed his eyes and nodded, reassuring himself, and then continued. “It’s behind me, now. I don’t need the pity. Anyways, after all of that, I found myself completely alone. I let myself wander aimlessly around until I grew sick of that kind of life. I turned to crime and petty robberies to give me some thrill, any ounce of adrenaline I could get ahold of. Enough time of doing stunts like that, and I started to gather groupies. Sometimes we’d lead a horse charge, or we’d kidnap a daughter of a rich noble, or we’d create ransoms and score ourselves heaps of cash. Man, those were the times…” Leorio chuckled to himself.</p><p>“For the most part, I don’t do those kinds of things anymore. But I can admit that my past is likely the reason why I decided to steal that pocket knife back from you. You just <em>seem</em> interesting, like adventure follows you everywhere you go. And I love to surround myself with people like that.” Kurapika let his arm drop from where it was draped around Leorio’s shoulders, sensing the man’s tone lift with faint amusement.</p><p>“It isn’t as fun as you might think. In fact, since about three weeks ago, I’m probably the most wanted criminal in Beijing.” Leorio arched his brow at Kurapika and huffed a startled laugh.</p><p>“No kidding? What in the world did you do?” Leorio asked and Kurapika focused his gaze out on the brightening sands.</p><p>“Just about the worst thing I could have. I killed the Emperor.” Kurapika picked at a loose strand of thread hanging from his sleeve. “It is very unwise for me to share this information, mind you. I have no clue why in the world I told you that.” Kurapika tipped his head to the side to see Leorio, slack-jawed, expressing something that looked like awe.</p><p>“<em>You?</em> The Emperor? Really,” Leorio repeated. “How did you manage to pull that off?”</p><p>“You don’t doubt my words?” Kurapika asked. Leorio raised his palms near his chest.</p><p>“I don’t judge,” he said.</p><p>“Well,” Kurapika hummed, “It’s a long story. One that I’m not particularly proud of, or that I like to look back on seeing as the events occurred so recently. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime, once I come to terms with myself.”</p><p>By the time their conversation startled to turn into comfortable silence, the sun was almost fully visible in the clear sky. As they made their way back into the cave, Leorio slung a leather bag over his back and pulled on a sturdy pair of boots. Kurapika leaned on their small table and looked at Leorio skeptically.</p><p>“Where are you going?” He asked slowly, making note of the things that Leorio was tucking away into his bag. A sack of coins, enough water for three days, a second knife. The bastard hadn’t even needed the one he’d stolen from Kurapika.</p><p>“Out. Back to the village,” Leorio stated simply, pulling on a sand-resistant overcoat. “And I’m leaving you here, alright?”</p><p>Kurapika scoffed and shifted on his feet. “Why won’t you let me come with you?”</p><p>Leorio looked uneasy, avoiding Kurapika’s gaze. “Because you're still under the weather, alright?” He snapped and Kurapika felt himself flich a little at the raised tone. Leorio looked immediately regretful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I mean, yes, I’m still worried for your health, but…” he trailed off, trying to hash out his feelings. “My fear is that you're gonna leave. And. Not come back,” Leorio said sheepishly. “I wish I was sorry about being selfish, but I’m not. I’ll bring back whatever provisions you want, though. It'll only take me about, what, two days’ time?” Kurapika could feel his neck heating up, his face slowly turning pink. He covered the bottom half of his face with his hands and looked up at Leorio through widespread fingers.</p><p>“Yeah. Um. That makes sense,” Kurapika stuttered out. <em>Get a grip!</em>, he yelled at himself interiorly. “Besides, it would probably be best for me to hide out here, out of the main districts for now.”</p><p>Leorio nodded his head enthusiastically. “Right. Okay,” he exhaled heavily. “I’ll be going now. Anything you want?”</p><p>Kurapika took a seat on the only chair in the cave and got out a small book that he had been reading for the past couple of days in his boredom. “New books. And something to eat that <em>isn’t</em> rice.” Leorio gave him a little salute and then disappeared, likely to tend to his horse. Kurapika tried to focus on his page but found that he couldn’t and settled with rereading the words over and over dumbly while his mind churned, replaying Leorio’s confession in his head.</p><p>
  <em>This is dangerous.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Even after years of being alone, Kurapika struggled to keep himself entertained while Leorio was away. He was frustrated with himself for becoming somewhat attached to Leorio during the time they’d spent together, and would find himself awaiting their next morning conversation or nighttime gaze at the stars. All the while he shut himself out in the cave in hiding, trying to escape his current reality by distracting himself with trivial matters of the heart. He deemed himself a fool.</p><p>Kurapika would never admit how his heart had seized in his chest when Leorio finally came back from his small trip. How he swept his eyes up and down the man’s body, appreciating the person before him whom he hadn’t seen in what had felt like an eternity (but was realistically two night’s time). Days, in the desert, were meaningless anyways. They could stretch on and on forever, or they could whiz by so fast that you wouldn’t even be able to catch a breath.</p><p>Which was partly the reason why Kurapika was awaiting Leorio’s presence with such eagerness, he told himself. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to turn a blind eye to the outside world.</p><p>“Ah, it’s nice to be back home,” Leorio exclaimed and pulled off his riding boots, dirtied from the harsh travel conditions. “I might have gone a bit insane with my shopping, but…” he trailed off sheepishly and dumped the contents of his bulky satchel onto the round table.</p><p>Kurapika sifted through the items after mumbling a small <em>welcome back</em>, pawing through to see if Leorio had remembered anything he had asked for. He could feel a small smile creeping up his face when he realized the man had.</p><p>It was clear that Leorio put a lot of thought into the books that he had bought for Kurapika. That, or the man had grabbed any and every book he could find. There were larger books, smaller ones, even a couple of scrolls thrown into the mix, all in mandarin caricature.</p><p>“I bought you a cooking book, actually,” Leorio said from next to Kurapika’s ear. Kurapika hadn’t even noticed the man sneak up behind him, and let Leorio drop his head down in the space right next to his shoulder. Kurapika held his breath as Leorio’s face was inches away from his own, not daring to tilt his head sideways to look at the man.</p><p>“Ah. A… cooking book?” Kurapika asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “What’s that?”</p><p>Leorio gently tapped Kurapika’s elbow to make room for him to come hunch over the table. “It’s a book that has different recipes in it. Because you said you were tired of rice.” He pushed up his glasses with his thumb. “I bought some spices and stuff that you could try to experiment with, too, if you want to try to make dinner with me tonight.”</p><p>“I would love to,” Kurapika said softly, before grabbing the book and flipping a couple of pages. “Let’s see… I don’t think I’ve heard of some of these before? Curry on noodles sounds good,” he stated before furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had curry before. Do you have turmeric? And cumin?”</p><p>Leorio turned over the little spice jars that littered the table, squinting at their small labels before nodding his head. “Yes to both,” he answered. “We should be good. The woman who helped me knew what she was talking about.” Kurapika smiled and went to start boiling some water on their makeshift oven.</p><p>They spent an enjoyable afternoon making the meal. Kurapika laughed fully, clutching his stomach with a pleasant feeling when Leorio somehow managed to brutally screw up the simple recipe and its measurements. After a bit of teasing, Kurapika stepped in and saved the meal with a gracious hand, and despite not being much of a cook himself, the curry turned out pretty well.</p><p>As they ate in a worn-out silence, Kurapika tried to think back to a time when he had allowed himself to laugh freely, to cast aside all of his problems and guilt and throw them into the wind. He admired Leorio, the wonderful man who pushed on through life with an optimistic attitude, who didn’t let any of his past burdens weigh him down. Most of all, Kurapika noticed how quickly Leorio could completely flip his view of the world on its head. The man carried a certain kind of warmth with him, a feeling that left Kurapika feeling relaxed and at peace with himself. For the first time ever, Kurapika felt wholly complete with someone else.</p><p>After their meal, Leorio pulled out a little box from his bag. Inside it was a dessert that Kurapika hadn’t allowed himself since he was a little kid. “Is that <em>Nian Gao</em>?” He asked in surprise, his eyebrows raising at the generous slice of steamed cake sitting in front of him. Leorio nodded and pulled out two wooden forks.</p><p>“Yup,” he said while sliding the desert between them on the table. “I got it for sale, ‘cause New Years ended a little while back.” Leorio dug into the slice with his utensil, taking a bite of the cake. “I’m glad it still held its shape during transport,” he laughed. Kurapika reached over to take his own mouthful.</p><p>He practically moaned at the first bite, something that earned him a sharp glance upwards from Leorio. Kurapika didn’t even care about his dignity. It wasn’t often that something sugary other than dates were even remotely affordable, especially with his budget. His coins that Chrollo had given him months back were wearing very, very thin and he was starting to rely on Leorio for meals.</p><p>Letting his desires run rampant for one rare night, Kurapika took more than enough of his fill of the cake. Leorio just watched, amused, as the blonde ate more in sweets than he had during his whole time in the cave. When they went to bed that night, both opting to slouch against the warmest cave wall next to each other, Kurapika was able to fall into a happy, dreamless sleep.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>At some point during the night, Kurapika could hear Leorio shifting around besides him. He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the darkness and barely being able to make out the outline of Leorio’s face. “Mmgh… Kurapika?” Leorio mumbled quizzically. “Are you up?”</p><p>Kurapika went to nod his head before he realized that Leori couldn’t see him. “Yes. Were you not able to sleep?”</p><p>“Nope,” Leorio answered with a defeated sigh. “Maybe sleeping against the hard stone has started to take its toll on me,” he said as he rapped his knuckles against the cave wall behind them. Kurapika frowned.</p><p>“It's likely. You might be developing some kind of problems with your back,” he speculated. “Must be your old age catching up with you,” Kurapika added with a snarky sarcasm.</p><p>Leorio whipped his head around before patting around on the floor for his glasses. Once he found them and smushed them onto his face, he flashed angry eyes at Kurapika’s faintly amused face. “What did you call me?”</p><p>“Old.”</p><p>“Damn you,” Leorio cursed and scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. “I’m perfectly young looking. My skin is just a little bit sun-damaged, that’s all. Gods,” he turned away in mock anger. “You didn’t have to point it out like that.” Kurapika furrowed his brows and bit his lip.</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry. I was just teasing,” he apologized and got up to give Leorio privacy, to let the man have some space to forgive him for being rude. As he started to walk away, he felt a tight grip on his thin wrist.</p><p>“Wait, where are you going?” Leorio asked him as he looked up at Kurapika quizzically. Kurapika shafted on his feet, not dropping his hand from where Leorio was holding it.</p><p>“I thought you were mad at me. So I’m going,” he stated. Leorio pushed himself up to stand next to Kurapika, towering over him.</p><p>“Wha-? No, I’m not mad,” Leorio smirked a little, trying to show Kurapika that he hadn’t meant what he had said. “I was exaggerating. You take things surprisingly seriously, for someone who cracks jokes at other people’s expense.”</p><p>Kurapika had nothing to say to that. “Well. I suppose,” he agreed finally, feeling uncomfortable. “Do you want to sit outside with me for a little while? I think it will do us both a world of good to get out of this cave.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Leorio swallowed a lump in his throat and ducked his head down as he realized they were still holding hands, kind of. He let go of Kurapika’s hand and immediately missed the feel of the smaller man’s hand in his own.</p><p>“Why don’t you go out before me?” Kurapika suggested, brushing dust off of his shortened skirt. “I’ll pour us some tea to warm up.” Leorio nodded his head and went ahead of Kurapika to sit on the overhang like they had a couple of times over the days that had passed. After a while, Kurapika came to sit down beside him and passed Leorio a warm cup of steaming tea. He took it with a small whisper of thanks.</p><p>As Kurapika took a sip of his drink, Leorio looked him over. “So how old are <em>you?”</em> Leorio asked. “If you’re going to go around judging me, I might as well be able to judge you back.” Kurapika gave him a small smile over the rim of his cup before lifting it off his lips to rest the cup in his lap.</p><p>“It’s a mystery,” Kurapika said, toying with the ends of his hair. Leorio whined.</p><p>“Come on! That’s not fair.”</p><p>Kurapika heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Gods, you're such a <em>baby</em>. I’m nineteen. Turning twenty in the spring. Satisfied?” Leorio almost spat out his drink and Kurapika gave him a panicked expression, trying to move out of the path of the spray. Nonetheless Leorio gulped down a scalding hot mouthful of tea before he spoke, like a <em>true</em> gentleman.</p><p>“You’re kidding. We’re two years apart?” Leorio reevaluated Kurapika’s perfectly unblemished skin, clear and smooth as though the man had some sort of youth serum lying around. His hair was also golden and well taken care of, for someone with such a reckless lifestyle on the run. Leorio was taken aback, but even more surprised was Kurapika who started to giggle behind his hand.</p><p>“<em>You</em> have to be joking. Only twenty-one?” Kurapika gave Leorio a side glance suspiciously. Leorio grit his teeth at the action. “You seem so mature. And weathered.”</p><p>“Despite your angelic face, Kurapika, I must admit your words pack a punch,” Leorio grumbled. “That remark stung a little.” Kurapika patted Leorio’s arm sympathetically.</p><p>“I’m sorry, truly,” the blonde insisted before tapping his finger against his mouth as if in thought. “You think my face is angelic?”</p><p>Leorio’s eyes widened and he could feel the color rushing to his face quickly as he went over ways to smooth over what he had just admitted. “I mean,” he started, drawing blanks. “Uh… yes?”</p><p>Kurapika bit his lip, trying to suppress a smile, but the action just made Leorio’s eyes travel further down to observe his mouth, pink and full-lipped like two lotus petals. “Well, thank you,” he said before looking down, his pale eyelashes fanning over his freckled cheeks outlined in moonlight. Leorio just sat in silence, dumbfounded at his newest realization.</p><p>
  <em>Woahhh. Shit. No. This is bad. </em>
</p><p>His sudden embarrassment worsened once Kurapika reached over to trail his fingers over the back of Leorio’s hand which was lying between the two of them. Kurapika swung his legs up to sit on top of them, turning to face Leorio on his knees. Leorio’s eyes widened.</p><p>“I would like to tell you that I find you quite beautiful yourself. I joke about your appearance a bit, but I hope that you know it's all in good spirits. The little scars and marks on your face are quite unique, in fact,” Kurapika said as he brought his small hand up to trace over a scar slightly above Leorio’s jawline, the one that trailed down all the way to his chest. Leorio could feel his heart beating seemingly in his throat as he tried to form words. The only thing he was able to register was Kurapika’s eyes, low-lidded and radiant. How they seemed to be leaning in, closer and closer to each other.</p><p>“Thank you,” Leorio was able to get out, breathless. Kurapika’s body language shifted in understanding as Leorio returned his gaze, the whole energy around them charging with <em>something</em> that had been brewing over their time together. It was that something that made Kurapika allow Leorio to bring his hand up to Kurapika’s cheek and to <em>keep</em> it there, caressing the soft skin with his thumb.</p><p>Kurapika’s eyes started to travel further down Leorio’s face, allowing himself to take in all the details at such a close proximity. Leorio’s hands, warm and engulfing, found their way into his silken hair, tipping his head upwards just the slightest bit. Kurapika’s lips parted in surprise as he and Leorio gazed into each other’s eyes, breathing in tandem as the night sky spanned above them.</p><p>In the moment, Kurapika wasn’t able to register anything, much less who made the first move. But as their lips met suddenly as though brought together by a magnetic force, Kurapika’s mind filled with a startlingly white emptiness and the scent of lemon emanating from Leorio’s clothes. When he ran his tongue against Leorio’s lips, tentatively at first, he could taste the sweet tea that they had been drinking earlier and hummed against the man's lips to bring himself back to reality, to remind himself that they were really kissing.</p><p>Leorio had closed his eyes and bit Kurapika’s own lips gently, nipping just enough to get the man to open his mouth. Kurapika did so with a little gasp as they fell backwards onto the ground, with Leorio’s arms behind his head to pillow him comfortably against the ground. Kurapika opened his eyes quickly to see Leorio blinking down at him, with a knee placed between the blonde’s thighs before Kurapika laced his arms behind Leorio’s neck and pulled him downwards to meet again. </p><p>The second kiss was more heated, with every touch that Leorio placed along his body burning pleasantly. Kurapika could feel his back arch a bit as he lay down on the ground, his whole body trying to press further into Leorio’s. The man on top of him met his movements with a groan that sparked a tingle of interest down Kurapika’s spine. He squirmed under Leorio’s firm hold the slightest bit, tightening his thighs around the man’s leg without thought. Finally Leorio pulled back reluctantly, sitting on the backs of his heels with a flush high on his cheekbones as he took in the sight of a teary-eyed, panting Kurapika sprawled out underneath him. Leorio didn’t miss the small mewl that left the blonde’s lips with an abashed bite of his lip as he sat up.</p><p>“Kurapika, I’m really sorry,” Leorio said, “But I can’t let this go any further. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.” It was the truth - Leorio had never kissed anyone with so much fervor, had never felt so many emotions flowing through him as he did so.</p><p>Kurapika felt ashamed for the way his lower stomach curled in anticipation with Leorio’s words. He desperately wanted to tell the man to do his worst, to let Leorio have his ways with his body until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. </p><p>But he had obligations. And Kurapika had let himself indulge in his own fantasies at the expense of other people’s feelings for long enough. So, with a heavy heart, Kurapika pushed himself up on his elbows and tipped his head downwards, fixing his skirt awkwardly.</p><p>Leorio reached his hand out to help Kurapika up. “I’m sorry,” Leorio repeated before Kurapika reached up to shush the man, putting one of his fingers to Leorio’s mouth. He shut up quickly with wide eyes as Kurapika tried to smile lightly.</p><p>“It’s really okay. I understand. We shouldn’t have done that,” Kurapika stated. Leorio pursed his lips before nodding once, looking out to the night sky with an uncharacteristic silence. “I can’t let myself get distracted. So thank you, for shutting things down for me.” Leorio winced at Kurapika’s harsh words but made no move to correct him.</p><p>“What’s your goal, then?” Leorio asked. “What are you so worried that you're going to get distracted from? Does it have to do with the Emperor?” He could feel Kurapika tense up, as though the man was not comfortable with where the conversation was straying.</p><p>“It does,” Kurapika answered, tone clipped. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter if I shared my plans with you, seeing as you already know that I killed the Emperor. I’m looking for a certain kind of sword, made of jade. The Emperor was searching for it all his life, and I simply must have it in my possession. I believe it will give me some closure on matters of my past. I have quite a solid lead so far as to where to find it, too.” Kurapika pulled his legs up to his chest, crossing his ankles as he wrapped his arms around his skirt. “I’m looking for a man named Nobunaga. Apparently he lives in Shanghai, so that’s where I’m off to next.” Kurapika froze at his slip-up, sharing the details as to where he would be going next, but Leorio didn’t seem to acknowledge it and instead brightened.</p><p>“Nobunaga? I’ve heard of him!” Leorio said excitedly. Kurapika raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“You have? Do you have any useful information about him?” Kurapika asked. Leorio chuckled and slapped the ground before leaning back on his arms once more.</p><p>“Only that he was one of the Emperor’s best swordsmen to ever roam Beijing. And you want to find this guy to do what, exactly?”</p><p>Kurapika bit his lip. “Fight him, if things come to it.” Leorio barked a sharp laugh.</p><p>“You would never be able to win against him with the skills you have now. If you couldn’t even beat me, oh man…” Leorio ran a hand through his hair. “Good luck, is all I can say.” Kurapika punched Leorio in the shoulder and earned a yelp from the taller man.</p><p>“This isn’t exactly laughable news,” Kurapika scowled. “I’m going to put my life on the line to defeat Nobunaga. I’d rather not die in vain.” Leorio’s laughter sobered up as he blinked down at Kurapika.</p><p>“You're really going to do it?” he asked with twinkling eyes. “You're brave. Well, I suppose I can help you out a bit.” Kurapika leaned in closer, suddenly interested in what the outlaw had to say. “There’s a tavern deep in the forest en route to Shanghai,” Leorio said, drawing out the tall building with his fingers. “It poses as a bit of a resting spot, as well as a place where people go to train. If you want to get more fighting experience, I would definitely recommend you swing by there.”</p><p>“How do you know of it?” Kurapikas asked nonchalantly, but Leorio could see the quick shadow of interest pass over the blonde’s face.</p><p>“Well, I can’t say I ever competed in any fights, but the place is rather infamous for betting. I made a fortune there, a couple of months ago.” All of a sudden, Leorio squeezed his eyes shut and yawned heavily, covering his face with his hand. He went to stand up and kurapika followed as they returned to the cave.</p><p>“Ah. I don’t know what came over me, but I’m feeling really tired,” Leorio murmured as his eyes began to close. He slouched against the wall and Kurapika crouched in front of him, keeping hold of Leorio’s arm to make sure the man would stay awake. “One more thing,” Kurapika asked as he stood in front of Leorio, his eyes glowing in the dark like a cat. </p><p>“Hm?” Leorio hummed sleepily in response.</p><p>“How do I get to this training camp that you were talking about?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Once he was absolutely sure the man was knocked out, Kurapika leaned in to kiss Leorio quickly on his jaw. “Goodnight, Leorio,” he whispered sadly, “Thank you for taking care of me. I won’t forget about you.” Kurapika gave the man one final pat before getting up and packing his bag, changing into a spare pair of pants and one of Leorio’s oversized shirts. He tied it at his waist to fit his smaller frame and took enough food to last him a while.</p><p>As he passed by their small makeshift kitchen, Kurapika glanced sheepishly at the mortar and pestle that he had used to crush up flowers to put in Leorio’s tea. He had made up his mind that he would leave the cave for good, but it had just been a coincidence that Leorio knew a place where he could train and get better.</p><p>Kurapika ran down the side of the cliff and struggled through the sand before reaching one of Leorio’s horses, tied up at the base of the small overhang. He ran his fingers through the mare’s long black hair to get it to quiet down, scared of causing any ruckus that might break Leorio’s trance. Despite his caution, everything went smoothly and soon Kurapika was taking off through the desert, loosening his hold on the horse’s reins and letting it lead his way through the desert, cast in a sad purple hue of departure and new missions. Kurapika never looked back once.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>